Until we meet again, my friend
by J.A.Kishu
Summary: John and Sherlock are connected, but their timelines do not match. At least for the time being. John has to travel through time and starts by meeting the younger version of Sherlock, the one he had met as a boy. They then continue meeting each other in different periods of time. Maybe one day they can live in the same one. *looking for a new beta*
1. Deep end

_AN: Happy New Year to you all. For me in Germany it is already 2018. As promised Chapter 1. I try to upload every week one chapter. My project for 2018. Filled with History, Relationships and the trouble time-travel brings._

* * *

 **Until we meet again, my friend**

 **Chapter 1: Deep End**

 _'Present, London'_

The call came unexpectedly. Agent John H. Watson could safely say he had never done anything to catch the attention of his boss. Or better the boss of his boss. He had been promoted and had more medals than he should but he had never been the target of any bad attention like right now. He had been called to the boss' office and that could never be good.

He was back in London after a long time being away; back in Great Britain… he couldn't really remember how long he had been away. His flat was basically just a storage room for his things and even that wasn't much. He only had the flat because it was expected of him. The boss' office was in a gentlemen's club where no one talked and you were accompanied to the right room by guards to make sure you really didn't stop to talk to London's elite.

Standing in front of the door John searched his brain a last time looking for a possible reason for him to have been called up here but he found none. His last mission had been a success, the hostage situation had been solved without body count and it hadn't even slipped through to the press that one of the members of the royal family had gone missing for two whole weeks. He had done everything right. Sighing John knocked and entered the office.

"You asked to see me, sir?" John didn't waste time with introducing himself; the man behind the desk knew exactly who he was.

"Yes. That's true. I called you because I have a new assignment for you." The man showed John the chair in front of the desk with his hand signaling for him to sit. Which John did without hesitation but he didn't touch the file prepared for him, on his side of the desk. Never touch something without asking to do so. Especially something that could have confidential information inside.

"What's the mission, sir?" It wasn't usually done this way. Normally he received a message telling him about the next job and hopped onto the next flight to whatever country he was supposed to work in next. The briefing happened most of the time on board of the air plane.

"That's the thing agent; I can't tell you what job it is until you have signed up for it." The eyes of the man, who hadn't introduced himself, looked down to the file. "I can tell you that this new assignment will be different from all your other missions. But I'm sure a man with your abilities will master it without problems." A secret mission, John thought, but why can't he tell me at least part of it.

"Before you accept, there is one thing I can and will tell you and I want you then to consider carefully if you feel up for this mission." John nodded signaling to the man to continue. "Your mission is sort of a guarding mission." A baby-sitting job, great, was John's first thought.

"You will follow one person and watch this person. You are not allowed to interact with said person in anyway. You are only allowed to intervene when something isn't following the script." Okay 'script' sounded wrong.

"Who is this person?" Please don't let it be one of those snobby rich kids.

"Can't tell you until you say yes; if you accept the file will tell you who it is." John had already decided to accept. If only for the reason that he had been chosen to do so. As he reached out and took the file a hand stopped him.

"Are you sure? There will be no way back. That assignment is to be pulled through until your death." John only hesitated for a second and took the file.

The first picture wasn't what he had expected; like the whole afternoon, to tell the truth. It was the photograph of a painting done by cavemen. The rock where some people had made their art unforgettable wasn't in a cave; the rock was in a museum and it looked kind of familiar to him. He had seen those paintings before. "I have seen them before." John spoke out loud without intention.

"I know. I watched you do so." That earned the man a very suspicious look and John a tiny smile. "My name is Mycroft Holmes. The rock with the painting you saw during the visit to the museum with your family had been brought to that place to that time for only one reason: for you to see it." John was confused. How did that man, Mycroft Holmes, what a name, know about that trip? It had been a decision taken on the spur of the moment as they couldn't back to their house because their dad was drunk and his mum hadn't wanted him and Harry to see their father like that. She also wanted to avoid getting hurt. It hadn't been planned; it had been raining that day so they couldn't go to the playground they normally went to.

"How did you know about it?" John wasn't sure what he meant: the visit, the rock, his family or the fact that the man had watched him.

"Someone, that someone who is your mission, told my uncle, the leader of this agency before me, to do so." That made no sense. "I know that all sounds a bit crazy right now but I would like you to follow me. I was always a fan of throwing people into the deep end of the pool. The only way to learn swimming or diving, depending on your lung capacity." John watched Mycroft Holmes stand up and walk to the second door of this room. "Are you coming Agent Watson?" It wasn't really a question and John closed the file, stood up and followed the man through the door.

He hadn't looked at the rest of information inside the file, hadn't asked what he was expected to do or where they were going but you learned to stop asking questions you never got an answer for. The painting, something about it had burned itself in his mind. He couldn't remember anything else he had seen that day in the museum, but this picture, which had made him sad that day, had stayed. It was as if the artist himself had talked with him about it. Discussed it. Described it. But that couldn't be. He just had feeling as if he had.

He had had at university a roommate who studied art and they had often had discussions about paintings and with the explanations of the person, his roommate, who knew how to 'read' them, he had been able see art from another side too. The side of the artist. It was the same with the caveman's painting.

After walking through a long hallway, they entered a room. It didn't look like it belonged in that old Victorian building, more like inside a spaceship from a science fiction movie. In the middle of the room was some kind of ball with a something that looked like a seat from a jet.

John had a secret Doctor Who fascination; you could say he was a fanboy. One of his few possessions was the complete collection of Doctor Who DVD's and he was proud to call himself owner of the old episodes on VHS tapes. His grandmother used to record them for his grandfather; he had shift work and couldn't watch them. She had never deleted the episodes and given the cassettes to John when he had told her about his fascination for the show, the episodes of the early years. Grandmother and Grandfather were no longer in this world but one of the many memories with them was watching this show and talking about it. He loved these afternoons at his grandparents' house. Away from his father and forgetting the real word for a second.

"Agent, welcome to your new point of operation. Meet your colleagues; they will support you with everything you need. You can introduce yourself later, they will do the same. First of all I want you to sit in this seat over there, close the seatbelt and when you arrive to not destroy anything.

"Destroy what?" He didn't receive an answer and followed the orders. He sat down and closed the seat belt. "Oh and don't leave anything behind."

One of the women from his new team, if you could call it that, whispered something in his ear; he only shook his head. "Can you hear me?" Another female voice came from inside his little capsule. "Yes." No further explanation.

An automatic door started to close and locked John in his seat inside of a small chamber. "Agent Watson I wish you luck and hope we will continue our conversation when you are done. In order to be able to return, you have only to change the time on the clock to the word home. It brings you back to the present but adding exactly the amount of minutes/hours you were there." Where was there and what did it have to do with time? He looked at the clock; it showed no actually day time. The first thing it was showing was the date '15.000 BCE' but John didn't have more time to wonder. Something shifted and he moved.

* * *

 _'15.000 BCE, somewhere in Europa'_

When John opened his eyes again he was blinded by sunlight. That couldn't be, because he was inside a house in London on a rainy day. The door opened and John climbed out. He felt a bit of nausea but he forgot all about it as his eyes finally got used to the light and he could see again.

He wasn't in the building anymore. Looking around he even doubted he was anywhere near London. Mountains rose in the distance, a never ending forest surrounded him. Only a few open areas like this one could be seen. He had landed on a small hill and wasn't sure what to do next. His boss had told him that he could come back easily but he had some kind of mission here. He didn't know what it was but it had to be something that was related to the caveman painting.

John saw smoke not too far away and walked down the hill. At the bottom he heard noises that were definitely not coming from any animal or from nature itself. Slowly he closed the distance between the fire and himself. He hid behind a huge tree and as he looked around he saw a campfire. That was the first thing he saw, but then he looked closer and saw the people around the fire, naked, only partly covered by fur, primitive weapons and tools lying around.

John took cover behind the tree again. What he was seeing was nothing he could explain by using pure logic. There, not even a hundred meters away from him was a group of cavemen. Real living caveman. Taking a deep breath to slow down his heart he turned back to watch them again. It reminded him of the scene on the painting. The painting. Suddenly John looked around and startled. If this was really the past, and he meant 'the past', then he had time-travelled to the time and place where that painting had been created. He could meet the person who had drawn the picture that had stayed in his mind all this time. What other reason could there be for Mycroft Holmes to show the photograph to him? Quietly so as to not disturb the group around the fire John walked to the left, feeling the man was there. He saw the painting in his mind again. The group had been on the right side and the man on the left.

Only later he realized that it was quite dangerous to walk around in the forest considering that it could be seen as the territory of the group. He could have been attacked by the people or animals or something else but nothing happened and John arrived to the cave entrance.

With his back turned to John there was a man, a tall man. Far taller than him, yes John was small but still taller than the caveman and this man has the size of a modern human. The fur of a black bear was around his shoulders and the head of the bear was covering the man's head like a hood. He was working on the painting, although it didn't have the form it had had in the museum. John walked closer until something broke under his foot. A piece of wood caused a crunching noise and the man in the bear fur turned around.

His eyes, he remembered them, they were the same. All those years ago in the museum, he now remembered the man that had told him to find him and give him his hand. But this was John's past and it looked like he was way too was far in the future for this man. He didn't look at him with his warm eyes like the last time, but still they had galaxies in them. The galaxy-eyed man, he used to call him in his mind. Now they looked suspiciously at John as he could mean danger.

Mycroft Holmes had given him two rules: don't destroy anything and don't leave anything behind. He had never said anything about not being allowed to interact with his target. That was what this man was right now. His new mission. Despite the fact that John had just traveled through time, he had an assignment and he would do whatever it took to fulfill it.

Slowly he walked over to the man, holding his hands where they could be seen, no weapons or anything dangerous in them. The man had a small pouch in his hand containing the paint he was using for his painting. The picture already showed the group around the fire but the man was missing from it. Knowing that language would be useless, John stopped right next to the man, tipped his fingers into the paint and started to paint the figure from his memory.

The man watched him painting and after a short moment he continued his own. They stood together, feeling each other. The painting looked like the one in the museum now, after John had painted the man, put a few animals and trees around them. He found a lighter color in another pouch with which he painted the light around the figure on the rock.

Next to him the man finished his work and looked at John. He seemed to be interested in John. John wasn't sure what to do next. There was still the communication difficulty but when the man smiled for him John forgot his worries and smiled back. He couldn't stay for much longer. What would happen when one of the cavemen discovered his time machine? But he didn't want to leave the man, not without knowing his name.

John stood and looked directly into the man's eyes; he laid his hand on his own chest and said: "John." John repeated this a few times and then he pointed with his hand at the man's chest with a questioning look on his face. John was sure that they had names. The man started to understand because he lifted his own hand, pointing to his own chest and said: "Sherlock."

The man's… Sherlock's voice was a bit smoky like he hadn't used it in a while. A strange name but it could mean something in the caveman's language. Thinking about it, John knew nearly nothing about the Stone Age, only the things you got to know through cartoons and comics in your childhood.

John nodded and started to leave; he couldn't stay forever and he had gotten what he wanted, a name. He wanted to see the man again, soon. Sherlock didn't follow him; he seemed to understand that John was going someplace where he couldn't follow. He stayed alone with his painting and John disappeared between the trees.

The way back to his time machine, the word still sounded strange to him, was easy to find. John climbed up the hill again and found his vehicle untouched. Inside he closed his seat belt, changed the time to 'home', closed his eyes and let the machine bring him back, away from Sherlock, the galaxy-eyed man.

* * *

 _'Present, London'_

This time the nausea crushed him and he climbed swaying out of the machine and got sick on the flour with all his limbs shaking. So he decided to let himself fall to the side. Worried voices and hands appeared out of nowhere and after someone had helped him up, he was half carried to a chair. A blanket around his shoulder and a glass of water in his hand later John felt able to open his eyes again.

"Time travel sucks." He said directly into Mycroft Holmes' face, earning him a smile from the man himself.

"I heard the side effects stop after a few times." John took a sip from the water and emptied the whole glass after he noticed how thirsty he was. "Did you meet your charge?"

"You mean Sherlock right?" Mycroft's eyes opened surprised. "Yes, nice guy, a bit of an artist. Would be nice to know what I should do with him."

"You talked to him and got his name?" His boss looked a bit suspicious now.

"Well, I wouldn't call it talking; I introduced myself and he told me his name. At least I think it was his name or he might have said something else. I am not sure, I don't speak Stone Age." John felt a bit angry. He didn't like to be used and sent on a mission without the right information or knowing what his task was.

"I'm sorry agent but in my experience it is the best to just show people. You wouldn't have believed me if I had told you before." He was probably right, still it was no excuse.

"Will you explain my mission now or do I have to figure that out the hard way too?"

"No. Your mission is to visit every time period in which we found evidence of Sherlock's appearance. You have to confirm his whereabouts and what he is doing. Especially if he is changing history or leading it in its normal path. You will be his guard in these times of change and we would like you to collect all the information you are able to about his actions."

"So his name is Sherlock and he is immortal or what?" There was no other explanation for this mission.

"We think so." After a second. "To both of your questions. Agent Watson I would like you to go home for today. Tomorrow your will find yourself with a new time period to visit. You can read through the file I gave you and you will get a proper introduction to your travel device and your colleagues, as well as a medical examination." John nodded. He was too tired and to filled up with information to do anything else.

He waved good bye and found his way home to his rarely used flat without thinking much. Time travel, an immortal and him as a… yes what was he really? Watching a man that wasn't able to die. Watching him living or existing between humans. Collecting information about the man and how he interacted with the time line.

Sherlock, a strange name, but when you lived for thousands of years and had the same name all the time, it had to be something old or unknown. These eyes, the man who had talked to him in the museum, was the same as the man he had stood next to and painted the painting.

John shot up in his sofa suddenly. HE HAD CHANGED SOMETHING. Panic rose in his chest. His boss had told him to not destroy and or leave anything behind. He had painted a picture in the Stone Age that wouldn't have existed in that way without his intervention. Ok, no one would notice, because the picture was exactly as he had seen it the first time. Does it mean he was destined to travel through time and change things along the way? His head hurt when he thought about it. He should just go to bed. Tomorrow would be a long day and he would meet Sherlock again.

The time traveling agent fell asleep and dreamt about stars and bears and fire. And Sherlock looking at him.

* * *

 _AN:So that was the first one of 39+Epiloque_  
 _At the end of every chapter you get the name of the next._  
 _Chapter 2: They call me Aeon._  
 _Can you imagen the next time periode John will visit._  
 _See you next week._


	2. They call me Aeon

**Chapter 2: They call me Aeon**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John Watson woke up in his own bed. A situation which would be considered normal for everyone else, but not for him. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept in this bed with too many pillows and the blanket his grandmother had given him for his sixth birthday when she had already become old and her days on earth were going to an end. John loved the texture of the blanket but he would never take it someplace else. Too dangerous. It could get lost or get dirty or, worst case, destroyed.

John's hand stroked over the blanket like over the fur of an animal and he was enjoying some peace and quiet for the first time in ages until his hand touched a few sheets of paper. He opened his eyes and looked at a file clearly marked as 'highly confidential'. The file Mr. Holmes had given him. The file about the galaxy-eyed-man from the museum. The file about Sherlock. Sherlock who he had met yesterday after he had travelled into the past several thousand years back.

John had to pinch himself. Time travel, immortal people and his new assignment. Before he did anything else John got up, walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He needed a cup of tea and breakfast before he could deal with anything else. A look at the kitchen clock told him nothing. It must have stopped some time ago because he hadn't replaced the batteries. After looking through his jacket he found his phone and while preparing his toast he checked the time, 6:30 AM and he also found a new message; from his boss. The best thing to start the morning with.

The message only told him to come back around nine. John had enough time for breakfast, tea, a shower and to study the file at least a bit. But as he found out later, there wasn't much in this file. Only bits and pieces, very little evidence, and most of it only assumptions and theories of times and places where Sherlock had maybe been seen, had maybe changed something, had maybe interacted with someone or pushed something or someone into a particular direction. Lots of maybes and nothing that would tell John where he needed to go next. Except that it would be sometime in the past, sometime long ago and somewhere far away.

After he had finished the file he took his laptop and wrote about his first meeting with Sherlock: everything he had done, said, touched and thought. The last part was only for him, the other stuff would go into the report for his boss. Not that he had told him to do so but he was sure it was expected and John didn't want to get minus points from Mycroft Holmes.

* * *

The London underground was fascinating. John always enjoyed the ride. His mother had told him once that every person carried their own story and where could be a better place to read them than a crowded subway train where no one could leave and you didn't need an excuse for staring at people. You could always say you were thinking or day-dreaming.

John watched a family, mother, father, older son and twin girls around ten. A happy family, tourists, on their way to the London Eye. John had never visited it, why should he? It looked like a happy family but the teenage son was unhappy, he had probably been forced to come along and would have preferred to spend time with his friends rather than with his family. The mother was a bit distracted by the girls and didn't notice her husband checking his phone every minute. He would like to be somewhere else too.

The train stopped and John left, leaving the family behind and entering the busy streets of London. The fancy gentleman's club opened his doors for him and he walked down the corridor to his new workplace, still guarded by a silent man. The not talking thing must be very important.

He was welcomed by the woman who had whispered something in his boss' ear yesterday. She introduced herself as Molly Hooper. She was the one responsible for getting John the correct clothing. Not like the last time where he had worn his normal jeans and shirt.

"I'm a bit disappointed that I couldn't get you into my caveman outfit for the summer. It was quite warm when you arrived there, right? I rarely have the opportunity to make something for that time-period. It's a shame; I hope I get another chance." She was a bit like his annoying little sister who never stopped talking. John smiled at her just for that. "I need to measure you. I have your measurements already but I need to check they are right and need a few more, for example the size of your head, for hats and things like that." Before he could even answer her, he was pushed into a corner. "Undress." He was left alone only separated from the main room by blue curtains. But as a man who was used to naked people (he had medical training) and had been in the army (just one word: showers) he didn't mind and stripped.

The woman, Molly came back with a bunch of new clothes for him that looked like a bed sheet. "Do you know how to dress yourself in this kind of clothing?"

"What clothes? That's a bed sheet." John held up the 'clothes' that didn't look like something you could wear in any way.

"It's a Chiton." She rolled her eyes. "Take off your pants too. They didn't have these where you are going. Actually they were mostly naked and did sports together." She blinked and after John lost his pants she tangled the 'Chiton'-whatever around his body. With a belt and a few knots and other stuff John wasn't able to catch, he was dressed like someone in the Asterix comics.

"Am I going to antique Rome?" That was probably the wrong thing to say.

"No. Look, this isn't anything even near the fashion in Rome. It's Greek." After she finished, she turned and John was sure the word 'ignorant' was spoken, but he couldn't prove it. He still felt like he was wearing a bed sheet.

John, now properly dressed for antique Greece, stepped out from behind the curtains. A man showing the first gray hairs was standing in front of him. "Hey pal, my name is Greg Lestrade, you can call me Greg. I'm the one responsible for you equipment, like Molly is for your clothing. Excuse her if she is a bit rude. She is a bit… passionate about her work and doesn't like people who ignore her accuracy because of missing information."

"Guess I made her angry already. I called it a bed sheet and placed it in the wrong time period." John and Greg looked at one another and started laughing.

"Happened to me too, not on my second day though, but no one made her as angry as Anderson." Greg pointed at a man with dark hair that was working on a computer. "He is our assistant, so if you need something, anything, food, water, new clothes, a place to fall asleep, go to him. He actually offended Molly's work in his first hour in this room. She nearly got him fired but she has a soft spot somewhere and she is obsessed with her work, so whatever you do, don't make it dirty." Greg was now pointing at the clothing John had gotten from her.

"I will do my best." Hoping that it was true he turned to the remaining members of his operating team. That one, a woman, must be the one he had talked with over the microphone. "And who is that?" John asked nodding in her direction.

"Sally. Sally Donovan. She is responsible for the communication between here and wherever you go or better whenever. She and Anderson get along a bit too well but as long as it doesn't interfere with the work the boss ignores it. Speaking of which, he is waiting for you." Greg led him to Mycroft Holmes.

* * *

"Good morning Mr. Watson. I presume you slept well. Are you ready for your next mission?" Mycroft Holmes, drinking his morning tea in an antique arm chair in the middle of a time travel agency, just seemed totally out of place. The whole picture was wrong.

"Thanks for asking Mr. Holmes. I slept well and I have the report from yesterday's mission for you." Yesterday, had it been only just yesterday that he had travelled through time and met an actual immortal being and chatted with him?

"Very good. I knew you were the right man for this mission." His new boss took the report and placed it next to his tea cup for later reading. "How good is your Greek, Agent?"

"As good as it can be after three years studying it." John thought for a short moment about all the long hours he had learned Greek and other languages. This was one of his obsessions, languages. He knew not only the most frequently spoken ones but also extinct ones, rare dialects and exotic ones no one ever needed unless they got lost in the middle of an Arabic desert.

"Perfect. Did you read the file about Sherlock, as we are calling him now?" John nodded. "Good. One of the pieces of information was an old papyrus from around 700 BCE were the priest of a temple wrote about a demigoddess who settled down in a temple, answering prayers and questions from the people. They called that demigoddess Aeon and described 'her' as a beautiful woman, with dark curls and sharp face. With the ability to read the people's fate and minds and foreseeing the future, don't forget the immortal part. A customer, you could call it, wasn't happy with the fortune-telling this Aeon gave him and stabbed her with a knife. She survived." Mycroft Holmes stopped as he saw John's face turning from open-minded to 'this is rubbish'.

"Sherlock is a man, I'm sure of it. I saw him, twice."

"Yes but maybe he is hiding and disguised himself as a woman because he is running away from something. The fortunetellers were always women, able to interpret the words of the gods. So now that you aware of the situation, here is your mission. You will find Sherlock by visiting the temple and asking the Oracle for advice. You will find out if Sherlock is at his place; if yes, why and also try to find out why he is telling people to do specific things. As always, don't kill anything, don't destroy or create anything. Don't let any traces behind that could change history. Good luck." With that John was dismissed and Greg pulled him away towards his time ship. He could still not believe it completely but he would travel back in time, again. To meet Sherlock, if it was really him.

"Have fun with the ride." Were Greg's last words before the door closed and John was alone in the small capsule.

"Mr. Watson, are you ready to take off?" That must been Sally Donovan.

"Yes, see you in a bit." With a last check on the destined time John started the engine and closed his eyes. "I hope I will get used to it." The undefined feeling that had caused him to get sick last time was back and filled his whole body as the light swallowed him.

* * *

 _'Greece, ~700 BCE'_

John opened his eyes and could not see anything. The panic of being blind hit him in seconds and he needed every bit of willpower to stop himself from freaking out completely. After a few slowly taken breaths he opened his eyes again, closed them and opened them again. The technology of the time machine started illuminating the small inside of the capsule. The window to the outside stayed dark. John felt for the right button to open the door. When he exited the machine he found himself under the dark nightly sky of the past. Hundreds of stars and a night illuminated by a new moon covered the sky. He had never seen so many stars in his life. There were no city with street lights burning all night, no advertising on huge signs, just the stars. Lots of stars.

After a few minutes John's eyes got used to the dark and he could see a few rocks, bushes and small trees close by. "…Watson. John Watson. Answer if you can hear me." His thoughts were interrupted by the jamming noise of a bad radio frequency and the voice of Sally Donovan calling his name.

John went back to the ship and found the communication device. "Yes, I can hear you. I landed in the middle of nowhere and it is night, I can't really see where I am."

"Yes that was our mistake. We wanted to send you to midday but now you landed at midnight. You have to occupy yourself until morning. Sometimes things like that happen. If you get bored, there is an instruction manual for the time machine."

"Alright. I guess even if I find a flash light in the machine I can't take it with me anyway."

"Of course not. It's against the law." Sally sounded forceful and a bit angry as if he had done things like that before. It had been his first mission and he had been in his normal clothes and everything. But cavemen were not famous for leaving accurate information behind for eternity to use.

"Good, then continue your mission. I just wanted you to know why you are sitting in the dark." Sally's voice disappeared and John was again welcomed by the peaceful night of antique Greece. He could read the instructions for the time machine or go back to sleep for a few hours but he just sat outside of the time machine and looked up at the sky. He wanted to keep that image of the sky in his mind forever. With a smile he remembered how he had named Sherlock after the visit to the museum. 'Galaxy-eyed man'. The stars and the sky reminded him of Sherlock and he hoped to meet him again in the morning. John wanted to know more about this man. He couldn't really picture Sherlock as a woman but if he had a reason to hide like that, then John would find out what he needed to do to help him.

Without really understanding why John felt a connection between them he couldn't explain but he had the feeling that he would find out soon.

* * *

The early morning sounds pulled John out of his slumber; after having watched the night sky for hours he must have fallen asleep. The sun was shining now, so he could observe his surroundings. He was on top of a mountain and it was a good thing that he hadn't walked around in the night. Only a few meters further there was a cliff. John went closer and found that his target was right in the valley under the cliff. Between two mountains and the sea was something like a small village. A huge building, the temple, his destination, on the highest point. A few other buildings were placed around it, a very large one that could only be the hostel for the visitors of the temple, something that looked like a sport park and a building for the sacrificial offering to the Oracle for telling them the future or in this case to the demigoddess.

John wasn't sure what he was supposed to think of the whole woman and goddess thing but after wasting hours of waiting for daylight he was ready for his mission, to look for Sherlock and find out what he was doing here. Without further planning John climbed down the mountain on something that resembled a path. It took him more than two hours to get to the temple, he couldn't be sure without a watch but the sun was already high up the sky, nearly midday when he finally got there. He entered the area of the 'sacred' place with many other people who wanted to ask the goddess Aeon something.

While John lined up with all the other people he slowly got used to the Greek accent again he wasn't fluent with. There were many different accents, none of them he could place to a specific area, but without real examples for antique Greek from his study time there was no way he could do that. While the day went by and the line got closer to the entry of the temple, John noticed what was missing. All around him where people with heavy bags, boxes and carriages full with presents as gifts as thank you or payment for the questions answered. He had nothing.

Panic struck him and he looked around nervously. He hadn't thought about it. Yes he knew about the fact that you brought something for the priest and Oracle but he had only thought about Sherlock and not presents or questions. Even if he wanted to bring something he had nothing in his possession that he could give away. John took a deep breath; it was no use panicking now. He was trained to handle situations like that. Well not really a situation where meeting a demigoddess was involved after traveling through time over two thousand years, but he would manage that too like everything else.

* * *

One of the priest came out of the temple and walked down the line of waiting people, he stopped directly behind John and told the person behind him that he had to come back tomorrow. The people behind him didn't sound to upset about it. They slowly took their things to go and get a bed for the night, so as to be the first in line the next morning. John stayed where he was and slowly came closer to his target.

With the sun nearly down he finally entered the room where he was allowed to present his gifts and ask his question. Inside the temple light from the sinking sun was shining through but not enough to see. John could distinguish a 'woman' (his target) sitting in the middle, waiting for his question, a question he didn't have and carrying no gifts he could use to pay for the answer.

"Ask you question and present your highness your present." John wasn't sure why but the priest who spoke to him looked nervous. Something wasn't right, something was different.

"I have no gift for your Aeon but I have a question that is not for me but for you." The words the priest then whispered didn't stop John. He tried to make his Greek as simple as he could so that he wouldn't make any mistakes. "What happened to the name Sherlock?"

It was the only thing that John could think of as a question. He liked the strange name, like the man carrying it, and if that person in front of him was his galaxy-eyed man than he would be safe to ask this question. If it was some woman, a real Oracle or priest, fake or whatsoever he was probably in a lot of trouble now.

To his surprise none of the two worst case scenarios that he had made out in his mind happened. Aeon looked in the semi-darkness at him, John couldn't see her face or eyes properly and therefore couldn't confirm her/his identity but she left the room without a word and none of the priests tried to stop her. John was left alone and after a few minutes he was asked to leave by another priest. Now John was sure he had found Sherlock, 98% sure. It was more than he had hoped for when he had come into the temple.

He needed to find Aeon's room after everyone else had gone to bed. Which in the end proved to be surprisingly easy; they could have put a neon sign in front of it and John could not have found it any easier. It was crystal clear where the priests had placed their money source. He waited until night fall and the business around the place had stopped. To his endless regret he had to hide next to the sport area and was forced to watch until late into the night naked men doing their sports. Not that he had a problem with nudity or men or both combined but he was still a British man and liked his fellow people dressed, thank you very much.

Quietly John made his way to the window he was sure belonged to Aeon's chambers, he climbed through it and must have landed in the dressing room because he found himself (after falling through the window) on the floor with a half-naked very male Oracle standing in front of him.

"Okay, now I'm glad that you are Sherlock; this could have been very awkward if you were a woman." John had to smile at the thought of him breaking into a Greek woman's dressing room. But looking at Sherlock he didn't get the reaction he had hoped for.

"Who are you and why do you think you can enter my private rooms?" Sherlock didn't recognize him but he also didn't look too angry about the break-in. He sighed heavily before turning back to get dressed.

Thinking of it, it was nearly 15000 years ago that they had met and no one could be asked to remember every person you had ever met in all this time. "Sorry my mistake, I thought you would still remember me but it was a long time ago that we met, so never mind."

Sherlock now dressed in something close to what Molly had given him to wear but without the belt (pajamas?) turned and lifted an eyebrow. "We have met before? You could at least give me your name or is that something you usually do where you come from? You are clearly not from around here, I never met a person like you. Breaking in, not introducing yourself, talking to me as if we were friends." Sherlock still didn't sound angry.

"John, my name is John and I wanted to meet you Sherlock. Sorry about the break-in, but you left in a hurry so I had no chance to talk to you." Sherlock left the room with a look towards that clearly said 'follow me but don't touch a thing'.

"My name here is Aeon, it means eternity, and I would like you to call me that." John nodded as they sat at a table and Sherlock, no Aeon, started to read a few papers. "What do you want, I have to work?"

"Tell me about your work. What are you doing here, how can you tell people what to do, why are you here, are you hiding?" The questions came out like a rocket out of John's mouth, which earned him rolling eyes from Sherlock who laid down the papers for what looked like it would be a long conversation.

"My work here requires accurate knowledge about the world, economics, politics even rumors and suspicious thoughts from lower class people. I have seen my fair share of people and I can read their past, their wishes, hopes, fears and ambitions form their body language, clothes, way of talking and the look in their eyes. I combine the knowledge about the person with my knowledge about the world and give them the best possible answer they can hope for. But if they then succeed in their business lays in their own hands. I don't answer questions for war seeking idiots or power searching greedy people who would use the answer that I give them to start another war, another political game. I also don't answer wedding and matching questions. Its fine for me if people think the best way to spend their life is with someone who can offer them money, land or a secure financial future but don't expect me to send someone to a lifelong living in a loveless cage."

John listened closely. The man he had met yesterday was a lonely Stone Age man who had spent his years alone; the man he had met in the museum a long time ago looked at him in a certain way, emotion filled and dreaming. Both of them were not the man in front of him.

"I think I remember you. You are the strange creature that painted with me, you haven't aged a day; are you like me?" Hope grew in John's heart again. It was far more interesting to meet an immortal who could actually remember him.

"Yeah, that's me and believe me the painting will survive but I'm not like you, sorry to disappoint you." The confused look on Sherlock's face was cute but how could John explain something like time travel to him. "You better tell me why you are here and what the woman thing is about."

"Your language is kind of strange but to answer your question: I am here because I can help people, I have nothing better to do and I think the whole concept of gender is overrated. There is no difference between man and woman. I have had many identities over the years, some were male, others female, some were never defined. And as many identities I also had names. But tell me John: how did you find me? I tried to find you after you had visited my village."

John had to smile again; Sherlock must feel the connection between them too. But right now he had the feeling that he had already overdone his visit and he should go back to his ship. He had found Sherlock and found out why he was here. And he had got some answers. He wasn't supposed to spoil the future. Especially their future. But one thing was clear to John: he wanted to meet this man again and again, he wanted to see him through time and wanted to know everything about him. And to do that he had to find him again and again and again. "I followed a whisper about you. You left behind little traces and every time I will find one, I will visit you again."

It didn't sound too creepy or suspicious in John's ears but he got up anyway. "I will go now. It was nice to have a conversation with you that contained more than one word this time. See you around." And before Sherlock could stop him John was out of the window again, leaving this place behind. He knew that if had Sherlock asked him to stay, he would. So he left quickly before that could happen.

John took one of the fire torches and made his way back up the mountain. It was a bit dangerous in the dark and he needed until the first light of the day appeared to get to the ship, but he made it up safely. One question was still going through John's head: what was the point of all that? Why did Mycroft send him back in time to talk to an immortal? Sherlock was doing nothing that one could classify as being important.

* * *

 _'Present,_ _London - 2010 '_

Back in the present he waited until someone opened the door from the outside, he didn't want to get sick again so he concentrated on breathing and keeping his stomach content where it belonged. Thinking of it, he hadn't eaten in over a day and the rumbling in his stomach told him his body had received the same message.

John was greeted by Greg who helped him out of the ship and let him sit down, placing a tea (so British, he loved it) and a sandwich in front of him. He was allowed to eat before Molly very possessively took his clothes and he was dismissed for the day. His boss was in a meeting and John's report would be expected the next morning at 9.

* * *

 _AN: Where and when will John go in the next one. Hope you enjoyed his him im Greek._  
 _Beautiful country by the way. Was there one duing summer holidays as I was twelve._  
 _Preview for the next..._  
 _Chapter 3: The collectore_


	3. The collector

**Chapter 3: The Collector**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John was late, he hated to be late. It was only his third day and he would be too late at work. This whole idea of having a flat, a stationary place to live was more complicated the he had thought. Yesterday he had forgotten it was 'rubbish day' and so his first action of the morning had been to run downstairs with his rubbish bag to catch the garbage truck. Not a good start in the day.

Next was his neighbor, who seemed to have a problem with his alarm clock, because after John had successfully caught the garbage truck and returned to his flat for breakfast he had to have a twenty minute talk about neighborly behavior, a very hard night job and the newest gossip about everyone, from here to the Thames.

His sore muscles from climbing up a mountain in ancient Greece in the middle of the night prevented him from catching the last subway that would have given at least the impression that he had tried to be on time. You could say John Watson had left his bed on the wrong side or better he should have stayed there.

Without a regular job he had never developed a rhythm, like other people. Work. Free time. Sleep. Repeat. He had no clue when his job was done for the day. Yesterday John had been so tired that shopping or cooking was not too high a priority on the list of things that needed to be done before crushing into bed. So he needed to do this today. He needed tea and to fill his fridge with normal contents, stuff that he hadn't had in years like milk, butter and jam.

So he was late, hungry and in a bad mood when he entered his 'office', which was how he had decided to call his time travel operation base from now. It was too long a name, he couldn't use it in a normal conversation with his neighbor and no one would believe him anyway.

* * *

John was greeted by Molly who didn't look much better than he did. "Get undressed." She ordered while putting a few folded clothes into his hands.

"You could at least start with a 'good morning' before you tell me to take off my clothes." It was intended to light the mood but it was the wrong thing to say, again. John just couldn't do it right.

"What is good about this morning? My laptop, with all my clothing sketches broke down, Anderson destroyed a ten thousand pound dress from the Victorian time and you, you are late. So not a good morning." John looked at the clothes he was holding.

"Am I going to ancient Rome today?" It really looked like it and he wanted her to be a bit happier by identifying the correct time period based on the clothing. The anger in her eyes told him that he had gotten it wrong again. "Sorry I will never say it again." Before Molly could explode and shout at him he hurried up to change his clothes. It was not his fault that all the clothes looked the same and that the public school system failed to teach about the fashion of the past.

After he had changed he couldn't find Molly to show her that he was able to dress himself, neither was Greg around; he saw Donovan and Anderson talking in the next room so John had no other choice than to walk to his boss who was seated in his armchair again, with tea and newspaper.

"Good morning sir." He wouldn't apologize for being late. It was not his fault that the world was against him today. Or time, or whatever.

"Good morning, Agent. This morning seems to be causing a bit of trouble for more than one member of this team but let's continue this topic when we have more time on our hands." Strange thing to say for the owner of a time machine. "How would you like to visit the largest collection of knowledge of the ancient world?"

Nice question. John would never have a say in when or where he had to go but he wasn't too sure what time period his boss meant. Thinking of it, he really needed to bust his knowledge about history, it was embarrassingly bad. He didn't think Mr. Holmes really wanted an answer so he waited for him to continue.

"You will go to Alexandria, 300 BCE… Egypt." His boss ended after he had read correctly on his agent's face that he had no clue whatsoever where this city is or was. "We have evidence that Sherlock initiated the biggest collection of knowledge of that time and was himself the librarian of the Library of Alexandria from its beginning to the not known time when it disappeared."

"What disappeared?" John had to ask.

"The library, agent. With the whole knowledge accumulated up to that period; it was one of the reasons that threw the whole world into the Dark Age." John ignored the obvious eye rolling of his boss, tonight he and Wikipedia had a date.

"I'm ready." He turned to leave but noticed that something was missing. He had been told when but not what he should do. So he turned back.

"Find out why he did it. His reason, from going from hiding in a small coastal village and answering people's questions to collecting knowledge to share it with the world." John nodded and hurried to the time machine. He really needed to give it a good name. Like TARDIS but he needs his own version of it, something meaningful, something that belonged to him and Sherlock, because their connection was possible only through this machine.

The time and place on the screens inside the machine were already turned to his target. He closed the door, pressed the start button and closed his eyes as the white light of time swallowed him.

* * *

 _'Egypt, Alexandria - 300 BCE'_

The first thing that appeared in front of John's eyes was a seagull, an ugly seagull that sat on his time-machine, looking through the window. John was no friend of these birds; he liked small birds that sang in the parks or majestic ones like eagles that lived far away. Seagulls were just ugly and they always looked as if they wanted to start a fight.

When John opened the door the seabird flew up to the sky again. The one thing John envied it about was the flying thong. It must be great to see the world from up there. Returning his look back to his surroundings, John stopped breathing. He had landed in the middle of an ancient city. It took him a whole ten seconds to realize that he had landed on top of a building. Lacking the knowledge as to how it looked when the time-machine landed, he would have expected to be surrounded by local law-forces, but apparently no one could see the time machine.

John listened to the noise of the city. It was a busy city. Like the buzzing of bees he could listen to the trading going on in the market and the half-open shops on the streets below him. Risking a look down to the ground he found no approaching army, only the blooming city of Alexandria.

He returned to his ship and grabbed the microphone. It took a minute to get it to work. "This is John Watson for Sally Donovan." The device woke to life and Sally answered him. He still found it amazing to talk to someone thousands of years in the future. "Yes, Agent. Did something happen?"

"Not really, I just wanted to know if it was intentional that I landed in the middle of the city on a rooftop? Oh and how do I hide the time-machine while I go looking for Sherlock?"

"Agent, you have an eight hundred page book describing the tools your machine can provide, why don't you use it?"

'Don't get angry, it's just not your morning,' he said to himself, 'she didn't do anything to deserve your anger.' John took a very deep breath.

"I will read it as soon as I have time." Irony, time for a time-travel-agent, don't laugh. „But I would like to continue my mission, so would you be so kind as to tell me what to do?"

"Alright, you have a camouflage button to your right, it has the picture of a chameleon on it, idiot-proof, press it and leave the capsule; it will match the texture and color of the closest thing and only open for you again when you stand directly in front of it, so don't forget where you parked. Good luck." The connection was cut and John was glad about it. He could have said something he would regret.

John pressed the button, hoped it will not break and stay like this (Tardis) and left his ship behind which now looked like a part of the roof. He climbed down the roof using a ladder and tried to memorize the house, his only way back to his time; not an easy thing. All buildings were made out of the same material, the same stones, the same wood, the same everything. Next time he wanted a word where he parked.

Hoping his language was fitting for this time and place he spoke to the first person that crossed his way. "Excuse me sir. I think I took a wrong turn, which direction is the library?" Please don't let there be more than one or at least let them be called a library. Or was that a modern word? Thinking too much, he nearly overheard the answer to his question. John concentrated on the conversation again. Strange dialect these Alexandrian people had.

"Friend how can you miss it? Look around you: there can only be one correct way." John looked and all he could see were the buildings made out of the white stones. The man seemed to understand that John had no idea which way he had to go. "See the buildings up that hill, those are all part of the library."

John saw it, yes it was a bit different from the other buildings but still he could not tell them apart. "Thank you for your help." He excused himself quickly and walked up the road to the Library of Alexandria. John was pretty sure the man he had ask for directions was laughing about him or thinking he was the most stupid human being on this planet.

* * *

John had never heard of this library before this morning; it did sound like Mr. Holmes had expected him to know what he is talking about. He sighed again, yes he and Wikipedia had a serious date when he would be back home. The first thing he wanted to look up would be Sherlock and then the library. This famous thing. It didn't help that everyone around him, here or in his 'office' knew so much about it. About everything. How could he even start to compare his knowledge with theirs?

The way up the hill was longer then he thought so to boost his morale he made a list of things he was good at.

Language: he apparently spoke well enough to find his way around an Egyptian city two thousand years in the past

Reacting in a given situation quickly and in the best possible way

He was a good fighter

He had medical training and felt confident that he could help a seriously injured person

Patience, thinking of his alcoholic sister, and forgiving

The list was good, but nothing on this list screamed time-travel-agent. He would order a book or something that described and explained the most important places and times in history. John should do this quickly before he embarrassed himself in front of Molly, Mr. Holmes or a stranger on the streets of Alexandria again.

* * *

The library was larger than he had ever thought possible. A library, even the largest one he had ever visited, was nothing compared to this. John walked down hallways with many doors leading to book shelves, laboratory-like looking rooms, class- and study rooms. And everywhere were books, not books like the hardcover version from his time, no, scripts and papyrus scrolls. John was totally fascinated and couldn't stop walking through the buildings with open eyes and mouth. What kind of knowledge was hidden in this library?

Suddenly John walked right into another person. He had been too distracted to watch where he was going. The other person too had been distracted by his task and his clear sight impeded by a handful of maps he was holding. Both men landed on the ground. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't looking. I..." but John stopped in his apologizing, because there, sitting on the floor surrounded by maps, was Sherlock. They were both sitting and touching their heads to chase the minor pain away from bumping into each other.

Sherlock looked up, met John's eyes and a brilliant smile appeared on his face. One he hadn't seen before. John had to smile back and he reached out so both of them could get up together. "Hello John, long time no see." Sherlock said as he started to collect the maps from the floor. John helped him.

"So you remember me this time." The difference was probably that break had been 'only' 400 years rather than over ten thousand years this time. John knew that but he wanted to tease the man a bit and get more of that sparkling in his eyes.

"How can I forget someone who dares to break into a woman's room without thinking of the consequences? Not any woman I want to add but someone who is considered a goddess and handled like the most precious treasure the temple could offer." First John thought Sherlock meant what he had said, but the man was still smiling at him and nodding into the direction John had come from signaling him to follow him. They walked next to each other as if it was any other day and one of them wasn't a time-travel agent from the future and the other an immortal. "So what brings you into my library today?"

"Your library? Doesn't that sound a bit… you know, possessive?" Don't let the target know your mission. Let him tell you everything you need to know.

"It is mine. I let this happen, I started it. So I can call it My library." Sherlock stopped in front of a room and entered. Every layer in that room was covered with maps from the known world. "It's not as if I am keeping the knowledge that is collected in these walls for me. I share it. The whole reason why I started this was to share it with others." Sherlock took the maps John was carrying out of his hands and sorted them in different sections of the shelf. "But it is still mine; I will do everything possible to make this the biggest collection of human knowledge in the world for many years to come." Another smile. Sherlock was happy here. He had found a good way to use his immortality. At least it looked like that for John. "Would you like a tour?"

"With pleasure. Show me all the places normal people can't just walk into." Blinking at Sherlock, a gesture that the man didn't know but seemed to understand, they left the room with the maps.

"As you can see we are still at the beginning. I managed to get the current ruler of Alexandria on my side. Every document, book, map, even diaries and pictures that find their way into the walls of this city will be send to the library and get copied. The copy goes back to the owner, the original stays with me. I have sent out people to do the same. They visit various cities, gather everything they can and bring it back to me. In the end this will be the only place on earth that has everything. No one will have to travel for days just to get the only existing copy of a book to continue their research or their studies. They will find it all in one place." They entered another section of the building. "This part of the building is mostly for medical research and practice." John watched an older man surrounded by younger people who were probably his pupils dissecting the body of a person. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him.

"Very impressive." John said to say something and show Sherlock that he was still listening. "But why here? Why now?" He asked in the end just to get an answer. He wasn't sure Sherlock would give him that with his tour, the real reason why he was doing all of this. The man was to absorbed by his project. John had no better word for it.

"Not sure what you mean, but this city is the centum of our modern world, ships from far away land in the port. Everyone is coming to this city. What better place could there be for my collection?" John didn't look very impressed. "I want to help the people because I have learned that knowledge is the most powerful weapon you can have." Sherlock looked outside of the window as if there was something only he could see, suddenly he looked sad. "I want to teach them how to leave their past behind and give them the tools to build a better future."

"I like your idea and I think you will give the people you educate a way to fulfill your wish." Sherlock looked back to John. "Your wish for a better future." Somehow both knew that John only said it to make Sherlock feel better because they both knew mankind and mankind was stupid, greedy and addicted to power. There were currently a few hundred smallish conflicts and wars in the known world and they wouldn't stop very soon.

"I hope you are right." Sherlock lead them to the next building were more than twenty people were busy copying books and other things. "John, I have seen many things, watched endless lives go wasted because of the power play of kings and people who think they can take the world and rule it to their own liking. I know you won't tell me where you came from or how you found me but can you answer one question?" Sherlock was serious and John would listen and give him the best answer he felt capable of giving. "Will there be a time without wars? Is it possible for those people who want to learn and search for answers to do so just because they want to or are we living in an endless spiral of war and destruction?"

John was shocked by what he was hearing. He wasn't really sure what life Sherlock lived, how long he had walked the earth and what he had seen but in the eyes of the librarian that had showed him his master piece, there was little hope left for the future of mankind. "…There will be a time when people are allowed to follow their endless questions and figure out how the world works and there will be a time when people will at least try to prevent war and stop the ones that are going on." Looking into Sherlock's eyes, John continued. "Can you wait for this time to come?"

"Yes I can. You don't have to tell me when that will be." Sherlock blinked at him, something he had learned a minute ago form John. "I think you should go now. You got what you came for, right?" John nodded; he wasn't sure what Sherlock meant. "I know you have to go so I will make it easier for you. Just one more question: will I see you again?"

"You will, but you have to leave behind a few breadcrumbs for me to follow so that I can find you, then we will meet again." Sherlock's confused look told John that he didn't understand the reference used by so many people in his time to Grimm's fairytale. Maybe he would meet the Grimm brothers too. Time travel was fascinating, it offered endless possibilities.

"Do you need a guide back to where ever you came from?" John smiled.

"No thank you, I think I know my way. Promise me you will keep this, you library I mean. It's a good thing." John turned to walk back the way he had come from to get to the time machine and travel back to the present. He didn't want to leave his time machine unattended for too long and he had received the answers for Mr. Holmes.

"So now it is 'mine'?" Sherlock smiled at him as John turned back to the man that had started single handed his own collection of knowledge that would change the history of humanity.

"Yes, it's yours." Just as he was about to take another step he turned to Sherlock again. "Sherlock, imagine you had a travel vehicle that could bring you always to the places you have to be." Sherlock nodded. "How would you call it?"

"For what does this vehicle stand?" He asked.

"The possibility that we meet again." The only answer that came to John's mind.

"HOPE." And with that the librarian of the Library of Alexandria returned to his work.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

The feeling of nausea wasn't as intense as the last time, meaning Mr. Holmes was right that it got less with every travel. Stepping out of his time capsule he got a very confused look from Greg who was welcoming him.

"John what did you do with the time machine?" Greg looked at the markings at its sides.

"I named it, simple." He didn't want to start a huge discussion about destroying the government's properties, it had felt right when he had done it and it had felt right to use the name Sherlock had chosen. 'Hope', John smiled as he remembered the brilliant smile he had got to witness today.

He was the one that used the machine so he could scratch a name in its outside. "Fine but when the boss asks, you have to answer it. He is out by the way, wants to see you tomorrow morning, on time, he said. John nodded and after changing his clothes, without irritating Molly, he left the office for the day.

Due to the fact that he had been only half a day in 300 BCE John was able to do his shopping, ignore the old man next door who wanted to talk with him again by pretending to answer a phone call, and have dinner in his own flat. After that he sat down with a beer and his laptop and finish his report. But now he wanted to find out how it would work out with Sherlock and his library.

John opened a search window and typed: 'Library of Alexandria'.

* * *

 _AN: For next week I have planed a bit of a more angsty one ... lets just say not everything in the history of mankind is pretty._  
 _Chapter 4: Burn, city of mankind_


	4. Burn, City of Mankind

**Chapter 4: Burn, City of Mankind**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John turned off his alarm clock. He hadn't slept a single minute that night. The evening before he had sat down with his beer and laptop to research Sherlock and his library but what he had found had been painful to read.

Yes, Sherlock's dream had come true, his library had become the largest collection of knowledge in the antique world and he had taught many great people of the past that were known to this day. Still this beautiful place, representing hope for all mankind, had been destroyed only a few hundred years later. And for an immortal a few hundred years were nothing. That was something John had understood very soon. Sherlock didn't see the world like mortal people did.

When he had to wait for a war to pass or people to forget his face he could just wait. He would miss a few things but he could just jump over the decades he didn't want to be a part of.

John remembered Sherlock's brilliant smile, the one that was forever imprinted in his memory but how would he look the next time they met. What time would he land in? And would he really tell Sherlock what happened so as to prevent it? He could crush the future, he could break time itself and he was sure a library didn't justify breaking time.

He could ask Mr. Holmes… better not. His boss had told him very clearly that he was not allowed to change the past. The worst part was that even if he wanted to change things he wouldn't be able to do so. To change the events that had led to the destruction of the library he would have to know exactly what had happened; sadly history wasn't even sure of the date. Hypotheses covered a big time span going from 48 AD to 300 AD. The only thing that they were sure about was the reason it had been destroyed: fire. The library of Alexandria had burned down with every piece of paper and destroying together with the paper the immense knowledge it had contained.

* * *

John got up ignoring the chaos he had created in the room and took a long and very hot shower. Maybe the water could wash away the bad feeling. The day he would meet Sherlock again following the destruction of the library and Sherlock would finally find out that John knew or better probably knew because he was from the future, he would hate him. Sherlock would hate him for not telling him what would happen in the future so that he could take measures to protect his treasure. He couldn't tell him and John hoped that whatever the destination for today was it would be after the destruction. Better for him not to be in a situation where he could get tempted.

For the first time in his life John ignored the people around him. He didn't watch others, didn't try to find out their stories or destinations. For the first time he felt the gravity of his… job. It was his job to travel through time and watch the work of Sherlock, the immortal. He wasn't allowed to intervene or change the known past because it could have catastrophic consequences for the future of mankind.

His attention was caught by something that could be seen every single day in a subway; today it didn't disturb him, it was just beautiful. John looked up and saw a violinist playing a song. No one stopped to listen; at that time of day was everyone busy getting to work on time. John looked at the man closer. He was wearing hoody, sunglasses and had a scarf over the lower part of his face. To be precise, he couldn't see a single thing of the man's face. The old trousers had hole at his knees and the shoes had seen better days. The violin was something else. John didn't know much about it but he could see the difference between a cheap and an expensive one. (All part of the job of a spy)

The man worked his tool to its extent. Strong tunes filled the whole tunnel. The music, somehow intense but still like an emotional cloak around his shoulder, filled John's mind. He could feel the fear about his next meeting leaving him. The insecurity of him possibly changing the future vanished and he felt the courage to face Sherlock build again. Without waiting another second John turned and left the violinist behind, heading to his office.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes had had a very long night. It was amazing how stubborn and childish adults could be. He would have more success in a nursery school then in a meeting with twenty (male) delegates from different countries. But these meetings were important and he was the one that kept the emotions at bay. At least he tried to prevent wars and global disasters.

His department at MI5 was somehow like these politicians. Stubborn, unpredictable and messy. What else was to expect when you chose an agent who was clearly trained for present day missions and sent him back in time to meet with the person who in said agent's future would play and immensely important role, a person who was also immortal and had started the whole time travelling thing. Not that Sherlock had visited very often since that day at the museum. He had told Uncle Rudy that he couldn't stay too long in one place. The world LONG probably had a different kind of meaning for an immortal, because Sherlock hat spent at least 15 years at the Holmes' mansion. That was a very long time for Mycroft who was 13 on the day the man had appeared.

Sherlock had left clear instructions as to what to do. With a list of possible consequences if they didn't succeed and Uncle Rudy had followed every instruction to the letter. Like Mycroft now who was now waiting for John Watson to arrive to send him to a much darker day in Sherlock's past.

Greg placed his morning tea next to him on the small table while Mycroft opened the newspaper. Another long day had started for him.

* * *

John arrived with a big cup of coffee in his hands; he figured that after a night without sleep he should at least try to stay awake. Who knew where… he meant when he would go next.

"Good morning John." Molly, as always punctual, welcomed him at the door to get him into his new outfit. "Don't you want to guess where you are going to go now?"

"Good morning, Molly. If I can be honest to you I would like to skip the guessing today. You look like you are in a good mood and whatever I say it can only be wrong because that outfit looks to me like the previous two." The bad night was getting to him and the caffeine needed another few minutes to kick in.

She looked disappointed, again. "You are going to Rome. Today you would have guessed correctly. But I think I can forgive you because you look like crap. You shouldn't watch Doctor Who all night." John wanted to protest but changed his mind; it was easier then telling her that he had researched Sherlock's library the whole night. A not very healthy obsession was starting to grow.

John changed into his antique Roman outfit and walked over to Greg who had waved for him. "Morning. Today you get a bit of support for your mission, because we are not sure what kind of danger you might face." Danger that was something new. The most dangerous thing up to now had been nearly falling down a cliff because his time machine had been parked to close to it.

"What danger?" He didn't feel fear, his mind was still filled with the music from the violinist that had sparked his brave soul to step forward again.

"We will use a fire-proof spray on you and your clothes because you are going to enter one of the biggest fires in history." John was shocked: would he be a witness to the end of Sherlock's library?

Please let it not be the end of the library, please. "What fire?" John asked and tried to sound as innocent as possible.

"The great fire of Rome. 46 AD, half of Rome burned down. The fire took nine days to stop, many people died. Please tell me you heard of it." Yes John had heard of it and to his knowledge that fire had been before the library had burned down. He had the opportunity to… no he couldn't change the past.

"Of course but I didn't know the date." John looked over to his time machine. The name was still there. HOPE, what Sherlock had suggested and was now the thing that would be destroyed.

John let Greg finish his job and walked over to Mycroft who lowered his newspaper to look at him. "I see you are ready for you next mission. For the next mission I would ask you to sleep at least six hours before you come to work. I can't use people who can't concentrate and make the right decisions in difficult situations because they don't sleep, understood?" John nodded. Of course his boss could see when he hadn't slept. "About your mission. We have found information that proves a connection between Sherlock and Nero." Mycroft waited a second to see if the name had any meaning for his agent. He nodded so it must mean something at least. "We think the connection started right after the fire with Sherlock being some kind of consultant. His first appearance is in the night the fire started. We are not sure if he was alone but it could be that he was the one who started it."

"Wait, Sherlock started the fire that burned down Rome?" John was more than shocked he couldn't believe it. Why should Sherlock, the peace seeking, knowledge sharing and caring man burn down an entire city?

"Yes we believe so. You will be sent back right before the fire started. The origin of the fire was in the middle of the city, Circus Maximus. You will travel in chameleon mode and if possible not be seen by anyone, including Sherlock."

"Yes sir." Mycroft nodded and releases John to travel back with HOPE. To the place where his galaxy-eyed man, the one with so much hope in his heart for mankind, was burning down a city full of people.

* * *

 _'~46 AD, Rome'_

John stopped breathing and held his eyes closed. He couldn't be sure no one noticed the time machine, the technology of the chameleon mode still needed a few seconds to match its surroundings. But no one knocked from the outside and he couldn't hear anyone nearby walking or talking. After another minute John opened the door carefully and closed it again.

It was night as his team had intended. The stars shown down at him and as he got used to the darkness he began to recognize some parts of the building. He had really landed in the middle of antique Rome inside the Circus Maximus. Greg had showed him a few pictures of the building. Not that John knew the difference to other buildings in that time period but it looked very close to the one Greg had showed him.

Slowly John walked away from HOPE. He needed to find Sherlock. It didn't look like the city was on fire, yet. The inside of the Circus Maximus was huge, John imagined the many thousand visitors who watched the shows from the tribunes.

"Sherlock!" It was probably a stupid idea to shout his name out loud so John had chosen a normal volume. More than a whisper but in the deadly silence of this place his voice travelled much further than John had intended.

* * *

The first sign of life he found was the light of a torch. John walked slowly to the light in the darkness. He didn't call out for Sherlock anymore because with every step he took it became very clear that the man he was looking for was lighting up the wooden parts of the building.

Only a few meters behind him he stopped. "Sherlock? What are you doing with the fire?" He didn't turn around, just continued lighting more wood. "Sherlock can you answer me? Why are you trying to burn down this city?"

That got his attention. "So you know what I'm planning. The best place to start a fire that will consume this place of lies and intrigue is their house of pain and amusement." Sherlock turned around and if John hadn't heard his voice before he could have believed that this was a stranger. Sherlock's eyes sparked dangerously and this time in the dark neither stars nor galaxies could be seen. He was thinner and looked somehow manic.

John had to swallow, the only reason Sherlock looked like that was that his library had been destroyed. History probably had the wrong dates and John had fought with himself about telling Sherlock what would happen. He looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Why do you want to hurt the people who live in this city?"

Sherlock stopped in his work to light the Circus Maximus. Behind them the flames had started to eat up the wood and travel up the tribune. "These 'people' don't deserve this city. They don't deserve to live and plan. They don't deserve the ability to make decisions that lead to the destruction of things other people needed lifetimes to build." The last part was more shouted than spoken and John stepped back a step so as to not anger Sherlock more than he was already. But he didn't think he could get any angrier than he was now.

"You are telling me you are going to burn down a whole city just because you want them to have other problems than evolving?" Sherlock started to walk again. He lit another torch and threw it up the tribune. He then walked over to the other side of the egg shaped building and started new fires on this side. John had decided whatever Sherlock would do he had no right to stop his angry rage or his seeking for revenge. Also because he had to keep the timeline as it was. "Or do you think you will feel better after that? When they destroy something belonging to me I can destroy theirs? That is childish. No wait even children understand that it doesn't make them feel better."

Sherlock ignored John for the most time, the man that appeared every few hundred years and disappeared again, was someone he couldn't quite understand. He was not like the other people. He was not an immortal; that much was clear but something else was different about him, something Sherlock couldn't quite place. He nearly stopped in his work but John's word couldn't go deep enough. He heard them but the all-consuming rage he was feeling after his library had been burned down, had had enough time to eat him inside and poison his heart until he the only thing he could feel was an immense, non-stoppable rage.

An immortal learned very soon that family and friendship were nothing for an eternal living creature. People, animals, everything would die someday. When you give your heart away you put a piece of it in someone else's hand and trust this person with it. But the day this person dies this piece of you is gone and won't come back. You feel empty and lost and are still lonely. So Sherlock had decided to build something for eternity, something that kept him busy and gave something to the people around him without losing his heart and soul. But they took it from him and now he would burn down their home and future.

"You will only feel better for a very a short time. After that you will think about what you have done, why you have done it and what consequences your decision has for others and yourself." John's voice staid in his head but it was not enough to stop him.

"John you should leave, I'm not interested in the things you say and I don't want you here right know so leave. Just leave." Sherlock threw another torch. The flames were getting more and bigger, most of the building was already in flames. Soon the flames would take over the city and burn it down.

"I hope I will see you again." Sherlock listened to Johns step behind leave and then stop suddenly. "I'm sorry about your library. I really liked your place of hope." Sherlock didn't turn around; he heard John leaving followed by a strange sound. He could feel that he was alone again but the quiet of the night did not return. The fire had grown and the first screams and shouts calling the firefighters and help from the population of the city, was filling the night.

"Burn, city of mankind. Burn."

* * *

 _'Nine days later'_

Sherlock watched his work and yes, there was no other word for it. His work. He stood on top of a hill. One of the many that belonged to the city of Rome. He looked down at the destroyed city. The burned ruins of once beautiful buildings and felt guilty.

John had been right: he didn't feel better, he felt worse. The feeling after starting the fire and watching the cite catch fire had been great. People's treasures, their homes would burn down like his. He didn't feel the satisfaction anymore now.

"What have I done?" Sighing Sherlock turned his back to the city ready to leave the area forever, but he suddenly stopped when he remembered the sad look in John's eyes. Would he ever see him again or had he scared the man away? This man that had come to visits him and showed him that he wasn't the only impossible thing in this world.

Sherlock looked back at the city, at his work, at his destruction. "Fine, I will talk to this guy Nero or whatever his name is and suggest a few changes in the architecture of the city, to prevent another fire like that. Maybe wider streets, balconies on the first floors to get water to the second ones, easier access for the fire fighters, more stone than wood…" Sherlock had a few ideas and knew his way to the leaders of the world without too many difficulties.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John stepped out of HOPE. He had only been gone for an hour but it felt like years had passed. Sherlock had burned down Rome single-handily. He knew why, he understood why, but why did he have to lose it in the first place. His library.

He had answered Mr. Holmes questions as to what happened and why Sherlock had done it. He had asked for the reasons and received the correct answer as to the real date of the destruction of Alexandria and its library. Not that any history book would ever feature the right date. Without any other proof other than a time travelling witness, they had nothing to go on. He ignored Greg's looks and refused the silent offer for a drink. If no one said it out loud you could ignore it. Molly tried to cheer him up but everything John wanted to do now was sleep. Best would even be forever because he didn't think Sherlock wanted to see him again.

As John stepped out of the subway he crossed path with the violinist that was still playing. It was like out of another time. This morning, when he had heard the beautiful sound, it had given him strength and courage. Now the violinist was playing a very sad song of loss and loneliness. John stopped in front of him and listened. It was as if the man was telling a story with his instrument. The story of someone, who had been lost and was now trying to find his ways Someone who had made mistakes and now wanted nothing more than to change them but couldn't. And he was saying sorry.

It was as if Sherlock was talking to him. The lonely man who walked the earth without a friend or family. Who tried his best but let emotions lead him to make decisions that he would regret and which he then felt sorry for.

"I understand and forgive you. Because I'm sorry too." John whispered and went home. He was welcomed by his bed; without even undressing John fell on it and slept, snuggling up in his grandma's blanket.


	5. Fire on the mountain

**Chapter 5: Fire on the Mountain**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John woke up after fourteen hours of sleep and felt terrible. He had caught up with the sleep deprivation of the last night but didn't feel rested or ready for the upcoming days. His dreams were visited by Sherlock looking at him with one silent question: WHY?

Yes, why? John couldn't answer that question because there was no answer. The world and especially the people who inhabited it could be gruesome. He hoped that Sherlock would find his peace in one way or other. His library was gone and he needed a new destination, something new to concentrate on. Maybe he could find something before they met again.

John got up and after a cold shower he started to feel a bit like himself again. In the kitchen, the time travel agent started to prepare his breakfast but decided against it. He didn't feel like throwing up this early in the morning. He still had some time before he needed to be at the office. John would do something he hadn't done in ages: have a nice walk in the park. There was one on his way to work; so no subway for him today.

The sun was just rising and not many people were on the streets, relaxing John further. There would certainly be more people in half an hour. But not yet; it was the quiet hour before the rush hour would start. Smiling John entered the park and only met a jogger and a drunken teenager. The latter was probably late; maybe he had fallen asleep in the park and had now been woken by the sunlight.

"Excuse me." John looked up when an elderly woman called him.

"Yes, do you need help?" You never knew if that was the case and, as someone who could do something, be it provide medical help, give directions or just have a friendly chat; John was more than willing to help.

"Could you help me with my bag? I have a bad hip you know. Didn't think it would be that heavy; thought I could manage it alone."

John looked at the space next to her legs; a very heavy looking bag lay next to her. "Yes of course. So you live close?"

"Yes dear. Just around the corner, Baker Street." As John took the bag he was surprised about the weight. How had this woman managed to even lift it? "Thanks dear, you are a life savior. But you won't be late for your work, right? Don't want to make you late. By the way, my name is Martha Hudson."

"No Mrs. Hudson I´m really early today: that is the reason why I chose to walk in the first place. I'm John, nice to meet you."

The rest of the way to her home was filled with her chatting about everyone and everything. It was nice to listen to something normal for the first time this week.

"So here we are." Mrs. Hudson said and opened a door with the number 221. It looked nice; a small Café was next to it. "I will show you the kitchen. Just put it there. Thank you John."

"You're welcome. Happy to help." John was already moving to leave as she stopped him.

"I know you have to work now but would you mind having tea with me sometime? Tomorrow afternoon if you don't mind? I would like to thank you properly. I will bake something special for you." She looked a bit unsure about her request but Martha Hudson had never shied back from anything.

"I would like that. I will come around three, if that's okay." She smiled at him.

"Perfect dear. See you tomorrow." She said her goodbye and closed the door behind her.

On the street John heard a violin; it had to be coming from the second floor. It sounded a bit restless and wild, but beautiful. John happy about having done something nice continued his was to his office. He needed to see Sherlock again.

* * *

As Mrs. Hudson closed the door behind her helper a tall man walked down the stairs. "Who was that?"

Protective of her like always she smiled at the man who was still in his clothes from the day before. It looked as if once again he hadn't slept. "Just a nice young man who helped me with my bag. It was a bit heavy."

"Would you mind making me a nice cup of tea?" The man asks after he nodded.

"You should sleep a bit not drink tea." He looked at her with eyes that told her, he knew what he was doing. She nodded. "Just this once. I'm not your housekeeper.

He smiled; she always said that. "Thanks Mrs. Hudson."

* * *

John was greeted by Anderson. "I put your clothes over there, boss says you can only stay for two hours and have to go home after that." Anderson pointed at the corner where John always changed and looked away again.

"A good morning to you too. Where is everybody else?" John saw no one else in the room.

"Boss is at an emergency meeting, Lestrade´s car broke down, Molly needs to get her new laptop and Sally has a private thing. That´s all I know. Here." Anderson gave him a piece of paper. "Boss said you should know the time line of the events. You should go now. Be back in two hours. He said it was important."

John nodded and ignored Anderson. The guy was just strange. Why couldn't he talk to him like with normal people? It was still his first week after all. He hadn't done anything to deserve this kind of behavior. Without thinking further about it, John changed his clothes and he thought they really looked like the ones he had worn the day before. Good thing Molly wasn't there so he wouldn't embarrass himself for one day.

There was a little note on them from her. "Keep them clean." That he could do. All of the other clothes had been clean, except the Greek one, which had gotten a bit dirty from his mountain climbing.

John sat in HOPE and with a thumbs up told Anderson he was ready to go. The piece of paper safe in the time machine. He would read it as soon as he arrived in the past.

* * *

 _'~79 AD, Pompeii'_

John opened his eyes; sunlight filled the inside of HOPE. He still held the paper Anderson had given him. One look gave him the name of the place he had landed in: Pompeii.

"Oh fuck." There was nothing more you needed to know than this name. In a hurry John got out and found himself at the end of a city. A huge city and behind it the volcano. John panicked; he felt the fear of fire and death in every cell of his body. But there was no lava, no fire, nothing. Just a mountain.

John looked around and no one seemed to be frightened or panicking. Anderson had told him he had two hours. He looked at the paper again. A time line detailing the process of the catastrophe. Words like earthquake, lava, explosion of the peek and pyro plastic waves caught his attention.

"John?" Someone was calling him. "John, is that really you?" He turned around to find his Sherlock again. Not the man who had been blinded by grief and sadness.

"Sherlock. It's really you." John was more than relieved. He walked over to Sherlock, glad that Greg had installed the chameleon button to activate whenever he left HOPE.

Sherlock looked a bit confused and unsure about something. "Are you here for me?" His voice was shaking a bit.

"Yes, Sherlock only for you." It sounded a bit much in John's ears but Sherlock didn't mind.

"Oh I nearly forgot. John you need to help me. We need to get the people away from this city."

John had a hard time not showing with his reaction that he knew what would happen. "Why do you need them to leave the city?"

"There is a huge earthquake coming and I think this mountain will shoot fire in the air again."

"How do you know that the volcano will have an outbreak?" John didn't know that he had just invented a word.

"What's a volcano? Never mind. I saw it before. I wasn't sure the first moment but this is the same mountain. It is very dangerous to be close to it. We need to get the people out, now. I feel it, the earth will shake soon." Whatever Sherlock meant or felt, he was trying to save the people of Pompeii and who was he to not help him.

"Alright." Sherlock ran ahead to the city, John behind him, the piece of paper in between the layers of his clothes.

* * *

The city was filled with people; it looked like a living and breathing creature, a thriving city. John felt the life in the streets and the buildings. "Sherlock what's the plan?" John shouted from behind as they passed people and some market stalls. The city was blooming and only John and maybe Sherlock new what would happen.

"I have absolutely no idea but we need them to leave." Sherlock looked around; they were standing in the middle of a bigger plaza. "What would make them leave?" He was speaking to himself.

"Do you know how long until the earthquake will come?" John had to ask; he saw a few birds rise to the sky before he remembered the note but the second he held the fine written lines in his hand the earth under their feet started to shake. Surprised by the suddenness and brutal force, both John and Sherlock were thrown to the ground and a blow of wind took the paper that slipped through John´s fingers and flew away.

It wasn't long but the few seconds the ground shook felt more like an hour than a few seconds. People were screaming, children crying. Buildings had formed cracks and others were destroyed completely but still there was no volcano. John felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Sherlock asked. "We are a bit late for that now but we have to make them leave bef…

An animatic growl travelled over the land and through their souls. The mountain cried out and the sound of the explosion of its peak would hunt John forever. It didn't sound like a grenade or bomb; it was more like a scream from someone badly hurt.

The people of Pompeii watched the mountain explode and the red glowing lava spit in the air. It was a beautiful sight but also totally frightening. That was the moment they finally understood they were in danger. Sherlock climbed on top of a wall and shouted to the crowd. "You are in danger, please leave the area immediately. You will not be safe in this city for a long time. Don't think it will stop." Sherlock coughed. A rain of ash had begun to fall down on them. It came faster than John would have imagined. "This city is no longer safe; get yourself and everyone else to safety."

But John saw in the eyes of the people that they didn't fear a fire-like stream coming out of a mountain far away; they were concerned about the ash and the earthquake but nothing else. A few left but others returned to their homes and locked the door. The ones wanting to flee would come back later to get their stuff. He watched Sherlock talk to every person they met while walking through the half destroyed city which was getting covered in ash.

The hours passed but still nothing that could explain the bodies of the people of Pompeii that would be discovered centuries later. "Sherlock they are not listening to you." John had taken hold of Sherlock's wrist as his friend continued to walk and tell the people to leave. "Sherlock we need another idea. This one is not effective. Tell me what will happen that makes you fear it. What did you see? It is not the lava because I know that´s not what will kill the people of Pompeii." He shouldn't have told Sherlock that but at this point John didn't care anymore.

"Do you have a better idea? Because I have seen this mountain on fire before and this city is still too close to it." A man passed by and John listened to his conversation with his teenage son. Their house at the north side had been totally damaged; they would get their most value possessions and leave.

"If we can´t get the people to leave than let us at least try to stop them from coming back. " Sherlock nodded.

"Brilliant idea." John blushed a bit.

* * *

They reached the outskirts of the village, close to HOPE and while John was thinking what to do, many were already coming back now after hours of silent black snow falling from the sky. Yes there were people hurt, from the earthquake or as they ran but this was nothing compared to what he thought would come, at least in Sherlock´s mind.

John watched the mountain, he couldn't really see the Vesuvius and wasn't really happy about the fact that he had already been here more than a day, his two hour time window long gone; it must soon be about 18 hours. Another growl came from the mountain and part of its side slid down. He had never heard of it. It looked like made out of ash and it was coming closer, fast.

Sherlock turned around to look at John and followed his eyes to the mountain. He couldn't get the people away from their belongings; they were always having the same arguments: nothing had happened the last hours so they had time. His voice was already hurting from all the screaming he was doing, shouting and talking to the people. The ash travelling down the mountain together with the lava stream was the thing he had feared. It was coming closer and he had hoped he would have more time.

"John." John looked back at him. "You need to go. NOW." Confused eyes wander back to the ash-stream.

"Is that the thing that will kill them all?" Sherlock nodded. "Then you have to leave too."

Smiling about John´s concerned answer he took his hand and pulled the stubborn man to the place where he had seen him appear hours ago. The people around them were far too busy and through the thick ash their doing was covered anyway.

Suddenly Sherlock stumbled against a rock that was loose and felt wrong but as John came close enough the stone changed its appearance. Something in a strange material appeared with a window and some signs at the side.

"Is that your vehicle?" Another nod, John seemed to fight with himself.

"Sherlock you need to come with me. You can't stay, you will get killed too." John looked desperate and Sherlock felt the hot air coming closer.

"What does the sign mean? I have never seen letters like this before." It was a good thing Sherlock could nod deduce John for a second.

"It means hope. The name you gave her." Yes John Watson´s time-machine was a woman.

"Oh…" Sherlock didn't know what to say but some kind of entrance suddenly appeared. "You have to go."

And before John could say something or stop him Sherlock pushed his surprised strange friend into the vehicle, hoping that it would bring him to the place he wanted to be.

"No Sherlock." A muffed sound which Sherlock was more reading from his lips than really hearing.

"Go home." He whispered as the ash and heat swallowed him.

* * *

"Stupid ash." Were Sherlock's first words after he had succeeded in digging himself out of it. Everything was covered in ash and dust. The city he had visited yesterday was no longer there. He turned around and found no evidence of John or his strange vehicle.

Smiling Sherlock thought of the name it had. 'Hope' John had explained it´s meaning and it was the name he had given him nearly 400 years ago in his beautiful library in the coast city of Alexandria.

Thinking about his situation he decided that he had enough of Rome and Pompeii and the whole area. "Maybe I should try the north again. It´s been a long time since I was there. Maybe they will have a few interesting places for me." He began to walk and more ash fell out of his dark curls. "First a bath and then northbound."

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Mycroft looked at the time machine station. He had sent his agent out twenty hours before for a two hour trip, not a minute longer. John had agreed, not really thrilled about having to be close to an active volcano. They hadn't heard a single word from him. Donovan had tried every ten minutes to reach him but all calls had gone unanswered.

There was a way to get the time machine back without the pilot but before he would do that and risk the possibility to trap a good man in the past, much more time would need to pass. He knew the timeline for the catastrophe and right now was the moment when the people of Pompeii faced their end. If his agent wasn't back until the end of the hour then there was only one other possible explanation other than that he had died: that he had managed to get away and return to a later…

Mycroft's thoughts were interrupted by the incoming time machine. His agent was back and hopefully in a good shape. Lestrade and Miss Hooper ran to the machine, even Miss Donovan came out of her office, all expecting to see a living John Watson climb out of his vehicle. But the doors didn't open and more than one worst case scenario came to the minds of the people in the room.

* * *

John couldn't get out of HOPE. He still felt the hot air in his face and the ash on his skin. He knew HOPE was as full of ash as his clothes and his hair. Even his mouth and nose tasted and smelled like the burned city of Pompeii and the hot ash-stream that had rolled over the land. Mr. Holmes had written something about pyroclastic waves, but he hadn't really understood it until the wave had come chasing him and Sherlock. Sherlock the immortal that was now covered in ash and was maybe dead. Hopefully he had been able to dig himself out of the ash. He had said nothing would happen to him but could John really believe it? Could he really believe that Sherlock wouldn't die like all the others?

He remembered one of his history classes in school, when their teacher told them about the city of Pompeii and the volcano Vesuvius. He had seen the pictures of the bodies that had been frozen in time. Was Sherlock one of them?

John´s train of thoughts was interrupted as the door to his time machine was opened. A worried Greg and Molly looked at him. Behind them he could see Mr. Holmes and Sally. Anderson was nowhere to be seen. "John are you alright? We were worried; you should have come back hours ago. Did something happen?"

John just shook his head for a no. Which question he was answering he wasn't sure. With a bit of difficultly he climbed out, holding onto Greg´s hand.

"If my counting is right you nearly got yourself killed by sharing the same fate as the people of Pompeii." Holmes, cold as always looked at him. Now that he was out and had seen his agent physically okay he could go back to business.

"Yes sir. I got caught up and survived only because Sherlock pushed me into HO… the time machine in time." He didn't want to sound as cold as Mycroft Holmes, Mister ice-man but it was easier right now not to think of the possibility that his friend had died because of him.

Mycroft felt the reason for his agent's emotional chaos. "Mr. Watson, Sherlock is immortal he will survive and you will see him again. His footprints do not end in Pompeii, you will have many more journeys to make."

John knew that but he had still seen his friend breath in the hot ashy-air that had killed so many. How many years would it take to see him again? Would Sherlock be worried about him? So many questions without answers.

"Mr. Watson I would recommend a shower before you head home. It´s Friday." John looked up. He hadn't had a weekend in ages, he didn't even know what to do with his time when he was not sleeping or working. "Yes, weekend. I don't want to see you before Monday. Then you will get a new mission and visit a new time to see what Sherlock is up to. Sleeping and maybe doing a bit of research in the field of history wouldn't be the worst idea." With that he left the room.

* * *

Molly showed him the shower rooms and told him his clothes and a towel would be waiting there for him. She didn't mention the condition of the clothes but John suspected that he still looked a bit shaken and she was having pity on him.

The water was hot and the stream didn't stop after just a few minutes. Sometime after his second wash with soap and shampoo John feels his legs start to shake and he sat down on the floor. The water continued to fall on his head and he pulled his knees closer.

"Sherlock will be alright, you will see him again. You have proof that he survived. He visited you at the museum. Sherlock is alive. He is alive." John repeated this thoughts for many minutes until his heartbeat had slowed down, his breathing gotten deeper again and his body didn't feel like breaking down again.

John finished his shower, got dressed and left without saying goodbye to anyone. He guessed Greg would check out HOPE and Anderson would get the ash out of her. Molly would check her clothes and Sally the communication systems before they all headed for their weekend. But John had experienced 20 hours of horror and wanted nothing more than to go home. The sun was already rising. It wasn't even Friday anymore as Mr. Holmes had said; it was Saturday and the weekend had already started. A long two days where he would not know what had happened to his friend. He slowly understood that the time between his visits must be very hard for Sherlock if he was looking forward to them and waiting for John to appear.

* * *

 _AN: Next Chapter: Under the Warlocks watchful eyes ^^_

 _This chapter was inspired by the best flatmate in the world_


	6. Under the warlocks watchful eyes

**Chapter 6: Under the Warlock's Watchful Eyes**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

The alarm clock beside John´s bed started to vibrate; in only three seconds it would start making noises but he was fast enough and turned it off before the first sound could escape it. He had come home in the early hours of Saturday morning and, despite everything that had happened, he still remembered Mrs. Hudson and her invitation for tea.

John hadn't slept a second, he had lain wide awake in his bed, holding a corner of his Grandmother´s blanket and praying to god that Sherlock was alright. He still felt Sherlock´s hand on him, as he had pushed him into HOPE. His boss had told him that he would see him again, that Sherlock was immortal but it still didn't take away the negative thoughts of Sherlock possibly in pain and injured due to the volcano outbreak.

John stood up, he had enough time to change his clothes and go through his bathroom routine before he had to leave for the tea. He liked the elderly lady and for once it was someone normal, someone who had nothing to do with time-traveling or immortal people. John had decided that he couldn't change the outcome and he wouldn't be able to do anything until Monday. He could at least enjoy his first weekend in years.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson was excited to have such a nice and polite man for tea. Some might argue that it was a bit dangerous to invite a stranger into one's home but how else could you get to know people if you didn't start knowing them? It had surprised her that the man had stopped to help her. Young people were always in a hurry. And if something went wrong, she had her own guardian angel living next door. He would save her like he always did. Such a pity that her boy always hid in his room only playing his wonderful music.

As the door rang she checked her watch, a bit early but not too much. She walked to the door to open to the young man, John. The first look at his face told her everything she needed to know about the day he had had yesterday and the night that had followed. He held up a few flowers. "Come in John." She smiled at him in an attempt to bring a bit of light to his face and took the flowers. "Thank you dear. That wasn't necessary. Follow me, the tea will be ready in a minute; I also have something special; it comes from Mrs. Turner next door, she is the best baker around and everyone loves her little pies."

They walked together into her kitchen, none of them looked up to flat number B, so they didn't notice the gap between the door and wall or the man with blue eyes that sparkled with little stars in them. Unnoticed and unheard the man watched them and stayed close to the half open door to listen to them. He wouldn't go down to understand the spoken words, for now it was enough to know that his everything was in the same building, breathing, living and making friends with Mrs. Hudson.

…it is enough. The man told himself, trying to figure out when they were in his timeline. He wasn't sure about weekends. He could only predict the day of the fire of Rome and from this it could be every place after that. But whatever happened, John couldn't meet him before it was the right time or everything would be destroyed. The man didn't want the responsibility for destroying the future or present or past.

* * *

"John tell me about yourself, what is a young man like you doing?" After Mrs. Hudson had filled the first half an hour with small talk, preparing tea and they both had eaten more than enough of the sweet bakery; John was now the one being questioned.

"I have been living in London for a week; no that's wrong, I have had a flat in London for many years but I never lived in it. My past work mostly involved traveling and last week my new assignment stationed me here. It is nice to have a place you call home again. But I have completely forgotten what kind of work it is to live in one place. Like changing bedsheets. I needed five minutes to find the fresh ones. Or shopping, I had to use google to find the closest supermarket." He wasn't sure why he told her all of that. It was true, the domestic life was new for him and strange and many little things had happened over the past few days that he had never thought about when he had lived in hotels or slept in trains and planes.

"Oh boy. You are another one of these bachelors that have absolute no idea how to do normal things like keeping your flat clean. My boy upstairs is the same. I´m sure if I asked him to wash his own clothes he wouldn't be able to find the washing machine."

The afternoon was more than pleasant and Mrs. Hudson invited him to visit her whenever he felt like it. John felt much better after having had a lovely date with someone who reminded him strongly of his grandmother. Her motherly behavior felt good and he would come back and visit her again. Maybe next weekend.

His Sunday was filled with doing the washing, finding time for reading the newspaper, cooking his meals for the week (he stored them in the freezer) and spending the night hours surfing the internet, searching for historical prints of Sherlock and Pompeii, just to make sure he had survived.

* * *

Without any real results John entered his 'office' on Monday morning at nine. Mr. Holmes was expecting him with a cup of tea. "Good morning Agent I thought we could talk before you leave for your next mission."

"Good morning sir, no problem. I gave my report to Anderson at the door." His boss nodded and showed him the chair.

"How was your weekend?" …Okay now it was getting awkward, why was Mister ice-man asking him something like that?

"Nothing to report, sir." His boss was a bit strange today.

"…Good. Agent your new mission leads you into the area of fiction. We only have access to a very limited amount of information about this time. We are not sure the people we are sending you to even exist. And if they do exist, if we are sending you to the right time." That didn't sound good. "But I´m sure you will manage every situation that will await you. Because of the lack of information it is completely in your hands. I think Miss Hooper has your clothes ready for you."

"Thank you sir." John walked over to Molly who held out a new set of clothing, something different this time. No bedsheet. She even smiled at him.

After getting dressed and looking at himself in the mirror he still couldn't say what time period he would go to but by the look of Molly she expected him at least to guess. "Am I going to the medieval ages?" A huge smile appeared on her face.

"Not bad John." With a wink she left him and he was pushed to HOPE from Greg who had appeared out of nowhere.

HOPE was clean, no traces of ash on or in it. Eager to meet Sherlock again, John pressed the start bottom and let himself be transported to 500 AD.

* * *

 _'~500 AD, Great Britain '_

Sherlock woke up in his bed and felt the difference. He had noticed it the first time when he had met John the last time. Something changed when John was around. If he was right than he would meet the man again.

For all the time Sherlock walked the air he had never met someone like John. He had seen fathers, brothers and sons. Had watched soldiers fight and healers do their best to save lives. He had had pupils with a never to satisfy hunger for knowledge and enemies that swallowed whole nations in their hate for mankind. John was different and unexpected. He was a walking and breathing puzzle for him to solve.

For Sherlock who could read every person by looking at them and compare their behavior and appearance with millennia's worth of experience, John was an enigma. He had no idea what the man was doing when he wasn't around him. The first time, when they had painted together, he had had the distinct feeling that John had met him before but Sherlock couldn't remember. Or maybe it was so far in the past that he had deleted it. But it was strange anyway because Sherlock was 99.9 % sure that he would never delete John. He had only needed a minute to remember him in Greece.

He could also see aspects of different people in John. There was a bit of soldier, someone who wanted to save people and protect them. There was the healer, trying to stop the pain, be it physical or inside the heart and then there was the knowledge seeker, as if John was always looking for something to learn and understand and…

A knock on the door stopped his thoughts. Sherlock was still in bed, normally he would have been up and ready at his king's side but not today. Because he felt John he was distracted. "Yes, enter." Sherlock got up and walked to the door. A servant entered bowing lightly in greeting.

"My apologies sire, the king is asking for you. The guards found a stranger walking around the castle and he is speaking a strange language. The king wants your opinion before he decides what will happen to the stranger.

"Tell Arthur I´m on my way and he should not harm the stranger." Sherlock turned around to get dressed. He hoped that the stranger was John.

"Yes sire." The servant left and closed the door as Sherlock started to take his nightdress off.

"Please let it be John. I haven't seen him in centuries." A whispered wish spoken to an empty room as Sherlock looked out of the window of his tower room.

* * *

John wasn't exactly sure how he had managed to end up in front of a king. It was probably the king he was looking for, no that was wrong he wasn't looking for the king; he was searching for some proof of Sherlock. Anything that could tell him Sherlock was here at this time.

He had landed somewhere in a forest, how he was going to find HOPE again was a mystery to him. He had tried to mark the place and the path he had taken but in the forest he had got lost far too fast. When he had finally found something that you could call a street he had followed it until he had reached this village or city or whatever the people called it. One problem was the language. When he had asked for directions, they couldn't understand him. His old English must have some gaps or they spoke a dialect he couldn´t understand or hadn't learned. This was the first time he had stumbled into this kind of trouble.

On his way to the king in his castle (a real castle with walls and everything) he saw many people on the street by their little houses; the so called street was nothing more than soil. John could imagine Molly's reaction when he came back with dirt on her shoes. Soldiers (knights?) passing their way, a few horses but nowhere could he see anyone looking a bit like Sherlock. The man was tall and would stick out of the crowd. When a man spoke to him he couldn't understand a single word. John tried many different languages but he didn't know one anywhere near the dialect the people were speaking. Even the name Sherlock wasn't helping but who knew under which name the man was living right now.

Two soldiers came to him; they spoke and as one showed to the castle John nodded and let himself be brought inside. That is how he had ended up in this room with a throne and a king. Where no one spoke a language he knew. And without Sherlock anywhere. John sighed and waited for the king's decision. John would have like to know the king´s name but even asking for it was too difficult.

He didn't like that they were all staring at him and the way they talked about him sounded a bit not good. As if he was some kind of enemy. Who knew what kind of strangers all walked into these walls with evil intentions?

Suddenly the door behind him opened. John didn't turn around, knowing that it was impolite to turn ones back to the king. At least he remembered something like that from a movie he had seen. A man started to talk behind him in the same strange language. But this voice, this was Sherlock. John smiled, so he wouldn't be beheaded or thrown into the dungeon after all.

* * *

It was really John but by the behavior of his friend... were they friends? ...he has some comprehension issues.

"Arthur you called for me. What can I do for you?"

His king looked relieved; he was still young and often seeking his advice in new situations. "The guards found this man outside; he is speaking no language we have ever heard. Maybe you can find out what his intention is and if he is a threat for the kingdom."

"Yes, sire that will be no problem because I know this man. I met him a long time ago and had expected him earlier." Changing his language to Greek, the language John was most comfortable with, from Sherlock's point of view. "John. You came a bit late."

Still not turning around Sherlock felt John smile. "Got lost in the woods; would be nice if you could explain somehow to your nice king that I'm not his or this kingdom's enemy. I think he wants me killed or something."

"I would never let him." To his king. "Arthur I would like to introduce you to my friend John, he has helped me before and I would like to show him our beautiful kingdom."

Arthur looked at him for a second. "You can do that, but Merlin next time collect him at the gate so we do not lose so much time. You can leave. But don't forget the meeting with our neighbors."

"Yes sire." He bowed. "John bow too so we can leave." John did as told and turned around only once he was at the door. To look at Sherlock.

* * *

Together they walked down a hallway, turned a few times and climbed up a narrow staircase.

"Took you some time to find me again. Guess my prints weren't big enough for you to follow." John looked at Sherlock's back. Had he heard that right? Was the king really THE King Arthur and had the king called Sherlock Merlin? He thought that most of this story was that, just a story. And Sherlock sounded like he would figure out that he came from the present, his future.

"Yes, wasn't sure I would find you here in the first place. You changed your name again. So you are Merlin. I heard about you." Sherlock stopped at the top of the stairs by a door with one hand on the door knob.

"Let me show you the kingdom I helped to create." He opened the door and lead John outside.

A chill ran through John's body as a fresh wind crept over his skin. They were on one of the towers John had seen as he was bought to the castle.

All that you see here is one kingdom. Twenty years ago there was only war here, lies and useless fights where good men lost their life for no reason." Sherlock stopped and looked for the first time into John's eyes before he continued. "I was passing through these lands and as I figured out what they needed, I stayed. Do you know what it was?"

John thought about every detail he could remember about King Arthur, Camelot, Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table... Yes that was all. A few names and something about a sword. Excalibur, yes that that was its name but what was the thing that this kingdom had needed?

It hit him. "Arthur. It needed a leader."

"Exactly, a leader brave and strong but also wise and merciful. The last king, Uther Pendragon was too strong headed, he couldn't see the possibilities that a united kingdom would bring. As he and his wife weren't able to provide a heir... let's just say I helped a bit with that and became a consultant to the king and later teacher to his son. Uther died early and with my advice Arthur became exactly what I had hoped for. A kind king and he will be a wise leader."

Sherlock smiled the whole time he told this story to him. "Glad you are alright, I was really afraid you died that day in Pompeii." He needed to say it.

"I cannot die John. You must never fear my death. I would gladly welcome it. Because it would mean that I could finally rest." It wasn't John's intention to push the mood down but hearing Sherlock talk like that, like he wanted to die…

"I don't like it when you talk like that. I would like to meet you many more times and find you all over the world and see the amazing things you do." John stood next to Sherlock and both looked down to the people below.

"Not all the things I do are amazing; you were witness to one of my more dark days, as I burned down a city." Sherlock´s eyes were fixed on a point in the distance. John couldn't imagine what he was seeing or thinking, and wasn't sure he should ask. Who knew what Sherlock did in his immortal life? What he regretted and what he had would have done differently with his knowledge from today.

"Tell me a bit more about Arthur and the future you are planning here." Sherlock found his way back to John and smiled his gorgeous, innocent smile.

"I gave them peace, I gave them the power to stop a fight before it started and I hope to continue this with the whole island." So Sherlock was working with the principle of 'who has the bigger gun' or army in this case. A way to achieve peace until someone with a bigger one appeared and crushed you and your dream.

"Why do the rumors transmitted through history say you used magic?" John would like to know why the person under the name Merlin had become a sorcerer, a warlock and a person who was able to use magic. This was the main reason why John had thought most of the Arthur saga and the story about Merlin were only stories, legends.

"Oh do they? Never heard about it but I can think of many reasons for the rumors. I do things the people of this country can't understand simply because the world doesn't have the knowledge about it anymore. Alone the things I can do with my knowledge about medical use from plants and herbs is like magic for them. I can heal people who would die by simple giving them a potion made out of a few leaves and flowers. I try to teach them but most people are too frightened to lean something that could be interpreted as evil. The old king left behind a deep-rooted fear of using any kind of science. Arthur is different but you can't expect people to change their way of thinking in one night." I am giving this kingdom everything I can, to make it strong and good. I started with Arthur; his birth was a miracle, magic or god send. I guess that is the reason some of them call me a warlock."

"I see." John remembered what Mr. Holmes had told him, about the loss of knowledge caused by the fire that had destroyed the library of Alexandria and the consequent falling of mankind into the dark ages. They had forgotten most of the things they had learned and already figured out. "What is your next plan?" He was too curious.

"This afternoon there is a meeting between Arthur and the king from the neighboring country; they are trying to find a way to keep the peace between the two countries. I will stand by Arthur to make sure they don't end up in some manly competition. "John giggled, yeh they would do that.

John´s mission was a success and he should now head back home but there were two reasons he couldn't do this right now. First he didn't want to leave Sherlock´s side and second he had no idea where HOPE was parked. "Sherlock I… are we friends?" Not what he had wanted to ask but a good place to start.

"I think so, I had many friends over the years. Not as many as you could think but enough to understand the structure of friendship and you my friend fulfill the most basic need of all friendships: the wish to see each other again." Sherlock smiled at John. "And will I help you to find your way back to your vehicle. Nice name by the way, HOPE."

Sherlock had read him and knew without John needing to ask that he had no plan on how to find his way back to his time machine. "That would be nice my friend."

* * *

In the end it wasn't too hard to find HOPE in the forest. John was able lead the way back to the point where he had stumbled on the road and Sherlock was a fantastic trace reader. They found HOPE in no time. Far too fast for John´s liking who loved every minute with Sherlock but also knew about the danger that too much contact and an extended stay in the past brought with them.

"Until the next time my friend." John waved at Sherlock.

"Sherlock turn around please, you should not see that." As requested Sherlock turned his back and even started to walk back to the castle to help his king bring peace to this country. John thanked him silently; he hated to leave and didn't want to see Sherlock's look.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

That was a bad idea, even Sherlock knew that. Breaking in and staying around in John´s flat was just bad. What if he came home early, he couldn't be sure that John stayed away for long. John could be on his way up to this apartment but he couldn't leave. This was John´s place with his things and the memories.

Sherlock sat on the bed, an old blanket over his shoulder that had John´s scents all over. The tea and warmth and danger. The smell of guns and war, the smell of a hug in the rain and the hand on his cheek that had tried to stop his tears, all of this and so much more. He was caught in his memories of long gone times. How could he leave? He could stay and wait for John to come home… But that would mean that he would change the timeline. Sherlock, the Sherlock of the past would never start to love this man. Too much depended on this meetings and the future ones. If he didn't have the patience to wait for the right moment, the present day Sherlock and this apartment would never exist. Because he had done many things that had led to the world as it was now. But he understood this only now by looking back.

Without thinking Sherlock let himself fall back on the bed and he closed his eyes; surrounded by John he felt safe and able to sleep without the monsters visiting him in his dreams.

* * *

John knew something was wrong. It was already evening when he came home and found small marks coming from metal tools that had worked at his door. After years of living in constant danger and every second of his day focused on surviving and self-preservation John slipped back in his role as agent of the Queen in under a second.

The last few days back in London, with his own home and a steady job had lulled him into some kind of safety but now he was back to his profession. John had made himself many enemies over the years and he had no doubt that he would die one day by the hand of one of them.

He got his gun out and put the key in the door lock, one breath and he unlocked it, pushed the door open and entered the room with the loaded gun, safety off. The flat was silent, nothing had been disturbed, and not a single item had been moved in the hall, kitchen or living room.

Suddenly a noise from the bedroom got his attention; without hesitation he opened his door and found… nothing. The window was open and his bed had been disturbed but no one was in there. John looked out of the window but didn't find a thing. He closed it again; had he left it open? He wasn't sure but after checking the rest of the flat and securing the door he put his gun away. Maybe he was just imagining things.

John thought about calling Mr. Holmes and telling him about the security breach but he wasn't really sure someone had been there. If he had left the window open and the wind was strong it could be that the wind had made the mess in his room. At least it could be. And John did not keep any sensitive information in his flat, and especially not in his bedroom.

Before he risked falling into total paranoia he took a shower, put on his pajamas and wrote the report about his last mission with Merlin and King Arthur. Smiling John finished his work and started to watch telly. As he changed channel during an advertisement he found something that got his attention, a movie about the very two people he had met a few hours earlier in real.

* * *

 _Second month of 2018 and the priview for next week:_  
 _Chapter 7: Exploring foreign waters_


	7. Exploring foreign waters

**Chapter 7: Exploring Foreign Waters**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John woke up with as a sharp pain in his neck. Carefully he sat up and found himself on the sofa in his living room. "Must have fallen asleep…" John stood up and walked over to the kettle. Tea, the most important thing in the morning. He continued rubbing his neck hoping the pain from sleeping in an odd position would start to decrease.

Under the shower John tried to figure out why he had slept on the sofa. Normally when he fell asleep he would wake up after one or two hours and go to bed. He was never one to fall asleep on a sofa, mostly because it was a long time ago that he had owned a sofa or better had been close to one. As he stood in front of his wardrobe he saw the unmade bed behind him in the mirror. He should have made it up. He fetched his phone and called his office. A number Mr. Holmes had given him on his first day in case something work-related should happen.

"Good morning John, what brings you up so early?" Greg had answered the phone.

"Morning Greg, listen I´m not sure but someone could have broken in last night, I mean yesterday before I came home. I´m really not sure, nothing is missing. Only my window in the bedroom was open and somehow the blanket on my bed wasn't straight." He knew it sounded a bit crazy but after a night on the sofa he wanted to make sure nothing and no one disturbed his home.

"I will send over a team. You better get going. The boss will be here soon and he prefers his agents to be on time. HOPE is ready so you can start without me. I will go to your place with the team." John was relieved.

"Thanks Greg. See you after I come back."

* * *

That was not what he had intended. Okay he shouldn't have gone into the flat in the first place but he needed to… to feel John for just a second. He missed him. There were times when they only met after hundreds of year had passed. But it had been so long since he had seen his John, had seen the love in this beautiful blue eyes. Yes he saw the child, the man in the subway tunnel and the one that visited Mrs. Hudson but this was not his John. His John wasn't there jet and he had to wait and…

Sherlock banged his head against the pillow. He hadn't left the bed since he had come home the day before and he wouldn't leave so soon. Pulling his blanket over his head he wished he could disappear and forget what he had done.

John could have noticed something. What if his scent was on the blanket and John recognized it?

Or did he leave something behind. John could be angry; he had invaded his privacy without asking.

…Sherlock´s thoughts went to all possibilities and impossibilities. And there were a lot. He coiled up into a ball and hoped that sleep would take him away.

* * *

"Mr. Watson, I heard you had a visitor. You informed us rather late on the matter." Mycroft Holmes, today without his paper and waiting for his tea didn't look too happy about John´s decision but he couldn't change what had already happened.

"I apologize sir; I wasn't sure but decided in the morning to have it checked out it even if I could be wrong. Better safe than sorry, they say." He tried to humor his boss a bit but the icy cold expression in his face told him that it was not a good idea to try the *knock knock jokes*.

"Then let´s continue with your mission. We will send you to a land called Vinland, named by Leif Erikson, son of Erik the Red." Yes, the man wanted to know how deep his lack of historical knowledge was and with every day John minded less and less that he was looked at like he was an idiot. Holmes' eyes twitched as if he wanted to roll them. "We are talking about the Vikings. After Erik the Red was band from Iceland he traveled the sea and found new land in Greenland. His son Leif Erikson started year's later form Greenland to undiscovered seas after he heard about new land far in the west. He and a few of his men started at Brattalid, Greenland and travelled down to the coast to Newfoundland where they built a new village. We are sure that Sherlock was with them in Vinland and you need to find out how he got back to Europe. The only possible way as far as we know was with Erikson together when he returned to Greenland. But there is no proof of this. If he didn't take off with him we would like to know what other way there was for him to return." His boss finished and John would have liked to know where he kept all that information. Because that was only the short version. If John were to ask Mycroft Holmes for details, he would probably leave every history professor at the university in his shadow.

"I´m ready sir."

"Miss Hooper is waiting for you with new clothes, try to keep them clean this time. I would like to once finish a day's work without her nagging about the clothes.

"I will do my best." Before the man could say more John walked over to his corner where Molly was waiting for him.

"Hey Molly, before you say anything I want to say I´m sorry. I couldn't keep your clothes clean. I´m really sorry. HOPE landed in the middle of the woods and you know the English weather and…"

Molly held up her hand to stop him. "It´s okay John. I know the middle ages or some colony in the new world created by the Vikings are not the best places to keep my creations clean. I´m not angry but I hope you will still try your best." She blinked at him and left his newest set of clothing on a chair. John got ready to start his next mission to the new world. Smiling he thought about Sherlock wearing a helmet with horns.

* * *

Only a few miles away Mrs. Hudson was more than cross with her resident.

"Young man, get out of your bed. There is no need for you to stay in there the whole day. I want to change the sheets. Go and have breakfast. Do I really have to check on you ever hour to make sure you eat and drink?"

This was not the first time Sherlock had been like that. She called them mood swings; he knew that he had some form of depression. But both of them knew that, even if when he got up he said harsh words to her, she was the only one that could get him out of the bed somedays.

* * *

 _'~1000 AD, Newfoundland (America) '_

 _John left HOPE and was very thankful for Molly´s warm clothes. The coat thing, you couldn't call it coat because it had no sleeves, it was more of a cloak, was made of thick, warm fur. He suspected it was wolf or wolf imitate, because of the grey color, but it kept the freezing temperature away from his body._

 _Looking around he found himself surrounded by snow, ice and nothingness. John had never been to Greenland before but his knowledge about this place was very limited. The only thing that came to his mind was the Aurora. Suddenly the beautiful light appeared on the sky. The sun was gone from one second to the other and night surrounded him. That was wrong but beautiful. Green and yellow light covered the night sky and everything between._

 _The stars seemed to grow and suddenly he looked right into Sherlock's eyes._

* * *

John woke up to a light breeze blowing grass and leaves into his face. The sun shone through the treetop above him. "Just a dream." John sighed. He sat up and was right next to HOPE. Next to his hand was a thick branch.

John's head hurt; he puts the other hand on his head and it came back red. The blood hadn't dried jet. So he couldn't have been unconscious for too long.

John tried to remember what had happened but he came back empty. Why had he dreamed about Greenland and Sherlock...? He had dreamed of his galaxy-eyed-man before but this time was different.

Deciding that this could wait John stood up, closed HOPE´s door, so the machine would camouflage itself and started walking in the direction he suspected the village was where he would find Sherlock.

The trees were high and the forest ground under his shoes felt soft. The sun rays were far too bright and John felt a bit like after a night in the pub. The edge of his vision was blurry and he walked a bit unsteadily. Later on John would be amazed that he hadn't recognized the symptoms of a concussion.

As he finally reached a place that looked like a bit of civilization (white fields) John suddenly shifted on his feet and fell to the ground. With one open eye John saw two men coming closer. He hadn't noticed them when he had left the forest. John didn't move; they would take him to their village where Sherlock should be... or kill him. Grateful that the men chose the first option, he let them carry him.

In the village, one stayed with him, the other ran to one of the buildings. In a blink of an eye, at least it felt like that for John, a man with long blond hair stood in front of him.

"Stranger where are you from and who attacked you?" The questioning was clearly for the safety of the other villagers but to humor them John answered.

"My name is John; I was hit by a falling branch and I´m looking for a friend of mine." John didn't see the worried expression on said person's face nor did he hear that his voice was blurry.

"Send Gungnir; he needs a healer." The blond man said to one of the two that had found him.

"My friend is a huge guy and has dark hair..." The blond man stopped him.

"Our healer is a wise man. He will look at you. Don't worry and after that you can tell us where you are from and what you are doing here. You can call me Leif." The blond man looked up as if he had heard something but John hadn't noticed a thing. "Gungnir is here. Björn and Jonte found a wounded man by the fields."

John looked to the man and smiled. He always found Sherlock or he found him. Feeling safe now John spoke to greet his friend. "I thought Vikings wore horns on their helmets."

Sherlock wasn't smiling he looked as worried as the blond guy, Leif. "John what are you talking about? I can´t understand a word you are saying."

"You know him?" Leif asked Sherlock who answered with a nod while he felt John´s skull for injuries. After checking his eyes he turned to the blond man.

"He is a friend. Bring him to my house. I have to clean his wound and he has to rest. The two men who had found him carried him to a house and placed John on a bed. John was suddenly too tired to keep his eyes open and decided that he was safe in Sherlock´s home and fell asleep.

* * *

 _John´s eyes were fixed on something impossible; there he was, Sherlock was right in front of him. Wearing modern clothes and holding some kind of case in his hand. He didn't look at him. He was too busy looking at his hand. Not the one with the case, the other one with the gun in his hand._

 _"It´s yours." He said and threw it on the ground. "I borrowed it." Sad eyes finally met John´s. "It reminds me of you but I can't keep it." A tear left the eye and John watched the little drop of water silently fall down to the ground. Black sand covered it. "You would be angry with me if I were to use it. I didn't use it; I´m sorry I took it in the first place. I need you, at least a small part. Please don't hate me… or my past self."_

* * *

John felt a sting on his head and opened his eyes. "Oh good you are awake again." Sherlock´s voice was filled with worry. "Can you try to say something in this language?"

"Why, I was talking to you a minute ago?" John clearly remembered that he had made a joke about helmets and Vikings.

"You were talking like as if you were understanding us but not answering in a language we speak or understand. Not even me." That was the reason they were looking at him like that.

"Sorry must have had a hard time to concentrate. What happened, why am I here?" Sherlock smiled his soft smile.

"You came out of the forest; you have a head injury." John´s hand reached up and touched the wrapping Sherlock must have tied around his head. "You were talking nonsense when two of our people brought you in; Leif called me and I guess that you then lost consciousness." John nodded; that was all he could remember. I brought you here to treat you; I´m the healer of this place." And there it was: not the soft smile, but the bright one when Sherlock was proud and happy about the life he was living.

"So what´s your name today mister healer of the village?" John giggled. Despite the headache he had John was glad to have time to spend with Sherlock alone; his real task was still waiting for him.

"Gungnir, means Odin´s spear. Was a rushed decision, happened when I met Leif, and couldn't change it after that." Sherlock wasn't sure why he was explaining himself but for John, yes for John everything was always different. "So tell me John, man with the funny name, what is the reason for your visit today?" That pushed John into a full blown laugh-attack.

John needed a second to collect himself again. Sherlock was right; he has a mission and he should do it as fast as he could before he messed up. Despite the lack of historical knowledge, John had watched enough episodes of Doctor Who to know that changing the past had consequences, horrible consequences. "Just want to know when you are going to pack your belongings?"

"What belongings and for what reason?" Sherlock looked confused and John looked around in the house which was clearly used and lived in and was not missing anything.

"Leif, he is going back to Greenland, Battalid it´s called I believe. Aren´t you going with him?" Sherlock had started to wonder what in Earth's name John was talking about but the name of the village they had started from all those years ago and Leif would be going back there in a few days' time, told him that it must something important. He hadn´t thought about it. Leif would come back after a while. Maybe a year or so but Sherlock could wait. The village would need someone in his absence. John´s eyes told him one thing, that this was not the answer he had hoped for. "I mean, if you are not going with Leif, there must be another way back, right?"

"Why is it so important to you that I go with Leif?" Sherlock wasn't sure he would ever leave; behind the forest there was more to explore, more to learn, more to teach. The old world was strange and often so wrong.

"I was just thinking." John didn't look too happy about this and suddenly it hit him. John knew something that he wasn't aware of and with asking about it directly he was trying to find the answer he was hoping to achieve.

"What use would it have if I travelled back with him? I was thinking about it but I decided to stay. Tell me a reason to go and I will." Sherlock hadn´t thought about it but it was true; if John were to ask him, he would get his stuff and travel over the sea with Leif, back to the continent he hadn´t missed in the last years for even a second.

A reason… he needed a reason for Sherlock. Mycroft hadn´t told him anything about the time he would visit after this mission but it was clearly located somewhere in Europe. A reason for Sherlock to go back… "Do it for me so we can meet again." It was out before he could change his mind. The image of the dream Sherlock with the gun, the lonely Sherlock, was in the back of his mind. Reminding him of the way they had to take until he could meet the man from the museum.

"Okay. I will tell Leif that I will go with him." Surprised by Sherlock´s answer John got up.

"That's enough? That´s all it takes for you to leave your life behind?" Sherlock nodded and started putting a few things into a bag.

"It will always be enough." With his back to John, Sherlock continued to put random things into his bag, a few books, little things that looked like wooden figures and small containers, probably filled with medicine.

"Can I stay for a bit?" Sherlock looked up and saw hopeful eyes.

"You have to, I have to monitor you, head injuries are tricky. When I´m finished you can leave or better I will bring you to your vehicle, HOPE." Sherlock continued to pack and John laid back and watched Sherlock working.

The two of them together without talking was relaxing. Without wanting to, John, who was tired, fell back into sleep without noticing.

* * *

 _The sound of the violinist from the subway was playing and there was a fire. Not a fire like the one in Rome. It was smaller, much smaller, in a fire place. The smell of tea and home was there too._

 _John was standing in a door looking at two empty arm chairs, two cups of tea standing next to them. An open book lay on one chair and a violin on the other. An elderly lady was humming the song from the violinist while dusting the book case. She was only a blurry figure but John imagined Mrs. Hudson._

 _There was no Sherlock in this dream but with the end of the song John was pulled away from the warm living room with the two chairs and the feeling that somehow that could be theirs, that some day in the future that room could be their home._

* * *

Sherlock watched the sleeping John; he would have preferred for John to stay but he knew that he couldn't do that. After having finished packing he walked over to the sleeping man and slightly touched his hand. John stirred and woke.

"Good morning, time for you to get home." Sherlock helped him up and walked him out. "Do you think you will find your way or should I go with you for a bit?

"You could walk with me to the forest if you have nothing better to do." John smiled; he had the opportunity to walk together with Sherlock, another few minutes of shared time.

One the way they met Leif, Sherlock or better Gungnir told him that they had to talk as soon as he came back. Sherlock told him how he had met Leif and John told him about the break in into his home.

They said their goodbyes. Sherlock went back to his village to plan his journey and John managed to reach HOPE without being hit by something.

* * *

 _'A few years before... '_

 _Sherlock had hoped to find some cave or something else where he could rest and hide for a few years. His name and appearance was a bit to known in these days and he would prefer to stay undetected between the people. His travel to Greenland was his last resort; who would follow him to a land covered in snow and ice? Apparently no one, but still he needed to bring a few years between them and their memories. It was never good to be too known._

 _In his warm clothes and not much of a destination in mind, Sherlock walked to the mountains, no tree, no wildlife and most importantly no human beings. Until he heard the roar of an animal and the pained shout from a human. Sherlock rolled his eyes. How could it be that he in the middle of nowhere he found a human being? But this shout, the scream was more than he needed to investigate, it was close enough to be a call for help._

 _Finding the place where the world of humans and animals met, he found a man, on the ground, his weapon, a spear, lay a few meters away from him, closer to Sherlock than the man on the ground who had a very angry ice bear far too close for their liking. Sherlock could see the acceptance in the man´s eyes, acceptance of death and the fury in the bear's eyes. A female bear who only wanted to protect her cubs. Sherlock could see them, two little white fury bears hiding behind a rock._

 _Sherlock made a decision and ran behind the bear, took one of the baby ice bears and walked around the battlefield behind the human again. After millennia of years living almost them, Sherlock had felt often far more closer to the animals than the humans, humans tended to hurt you for no reason. The baby bear in his arms didn't need words; it knew it was safe in Sherlock´s hands, it waited and was quiet._

 _He picked up the spear from the ground and walked over to the mother bear, with strong steps. One hand holding the bear the other the spear. Before the mother bear could attack the man on the ground Sherlock stood in front of him. The whole scene froze and Sherlock locked his eyes with the angry creature._

 _They both understood that he and the man would not go further, that they would go back and not take another step closer to her children. They also made a deal, without words, free passage for the exchange of the baby in Sherlock´s arms. The mother also understood that her child was not afraid of the strange creature who was holding it. So she stopped, let herself step back on all of her four paws and Sherlock sat the baby bear on the ground. It said good bye by licking his fingers and walked over to its mother. She greeted it and turned around, collected her other child and disappeared between the rocks._

 _Sherlock exhaled a breath in relief. It had worked out but you could never be sure with mothers. He turned around and faced the first human he had met in this country since arriving here. The man was looking at him as if he was some strange creature but who could blame him? He had saved the man´s life without hurting the animal or talking. A thing that couldn't be understood by a folk that defined itself through language. One of the first, he had to say._

 _The first to speak again was the man on the ground. "Thank you for your help. You saved me from being eaten alive. Not the glorious death you wish for."_

 _Curiously Sherlock watched the man stand up and offer him his hand. His aim to disappear had just vanished. He would like to know more about the young man with the bright eyes and the hair with the same color as John´s. "I was just passing by. Couldn't let you there on your own, right?"_

 _"What´s your name stranger? Haven't seen you around the village, did you came with the last ship? I´m Leif, Leif Erikson, you probably know my father, Erik the Red." Sherlock shook his head; he hadn't heard from the man and was just trying to find a place to disappear._

 _He couldn't tell him his real name; what if someone had heard of him? Sherlock looked down on the spear in his hand and offered it to Leif to take. "You can call me Gungir; I have never heard of your father but you could show me the way to your village, I think I´m a bit lost. But first let me have a look at your leg." This name was fake as all the names he had chosen over the years of his existence but he always chose them because of their meaning. This time it was – Odin´s spear - . It had started with a spear and what closer thing than a god was there to describe him._

 _After Sherlock had treated the leg wound as best as he could, they started walking to the village. Sherlock half carried Leif and was happy with the start of his new adventure. He had helped a man and the same man he had saved would show him the way._

 _In the many years together Sherlock, or better Gungir followed Leif everywhere as his friend, brother in war, healer of the village and companion as they sailed westward to find new land._

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

The journey back wasn't pleasant. He had in the meantime gotten used to the time travel thing but with a concussion it was a whole new hell. Just in time he managed to open the door, vomit on the floor and lose consciousness.

* * *

When John Watson arrived back to headquarters Mycroft was relaxing in his chair. He enjoyed these quiet afternoons without having to prevent wars or chase behind immortals to stop them from interfering with the present. The break in into his agent's apartment had clearly been Sherlock, but he wouldn't be able to tell John this fact. It was for the best and he believed that the immortal man understood that he had to wait. Mycroft was sending John back as often as possible but he couldn't rush too much or his interference would change something too.

The time machine appeared and Mycroft thought his agent would get out, present his report and they all could go home. But as the agent came out, got sick, broke down on the floor and was covered in blood. Lestrade and Molly where at his side in no time and lifted the unconscious man onto a bed they had for medical emergencies.

Mycroft watched the gentlemen's club personal doctor check his agent. The conclusion: concussion, head wound, that was all. After the doctor had left, John slept for another hour before he woke up again. The time travelling must have worsened the symptoms.

* * *

John woke up putting a hand on his head and feeling horrible, worse than after the branch had hit him. "What happened?" Since he did not direct the question at anyone in particular, it came to Mycroft to answer it.

"It appears that you had a rough time with the Vikings. Did they attack you?"

John finally opened his eyes to look at his boss. "No sir, I was hit by a branch as I left HOPE; Sherlock patched me up as good as he could. For the mission he is taking the ship back to Greenland."

"Is he? Was he planning to do this before or did he decide after you two met again?" The question was clearly accusing John of changing the past and everyone in the room knew that. Greg and Molly tried to be as small and invisible as possible, while John thought that his choice of words had lead his boss to the right conclusion.

"Sorry sir, wrong choice of words but do you have some painkillers; my head is hurting." After Molly gave him two pills and a glass of water he faced his scary looking boss again. "He would have taken the decision anyway because he wanted to stay with his friend Leif."

Still looking suspiciously at his agent Mycroft decided to let it slip. Whatever he had done, everything was still in place. "Agent, due to your injury, you will have to take a short break." He could see the shock and anger in John´s face. "A head injury is something you should take very seriously Mr. Watson. I don't want to see you here again until Monday."

"But it is only Tuesday."

"Exactly. I would say six days will be enough." Taking his leave he turned around at the door. "Mr. Lestrade you will bring him home and make sure he stays there for today. Until next Monday." John, Greg and Molly were left behind.

The first that got a hold on himself again after seeing the more scary side of his boss was Greg. "Okay pal, let's get you home." We can talk about the other stuff later. Molly can you bring him his clothes?" Molly disappeared and came back with John´s things. After getting dressed he was brought home by Greg.

How was he going to survive a whole week without seeing Sherlock?


	8. The longest week

**Chapter 8: The Longest Week**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Tuesday evening:

Greg had taken him home in his car. It wasn't really late so they could enjoy the London rush hour. Traffic jams wherever they went. "I told you that the subway would be faster." John had to say it. He was still pissed at the boss for sending him home for a week.

"You're probably right but it's still easier that way. If you start bleeding from your ears I will have you at the next hospital faster."

John ignored him. He wouldn't bleed from his ears but he also appreciated Greg's concern.

"What about the break in?" John suddenly remembered this morning and the dream about his gun. First thing he would do when home was to check the box.

"We found nothing; if you want I can get you new locks."

John thought about it but decided against it. If it really had been Sherlock he didn't want to scare him off. Whatever needed to happen between him and the past Sherlock, it needed to happen first or he would never meet the Sherlock from the present. "If you didn't found anything I see no reason in changing them.

Greg brought him up to his flat. He checked every room and closed the door behind them. "Good, I was just making sure. How about I come by tomorrow and we go out for a pint?"

"Sounds good to me." John answered. It had been a long time since he had been out. Greg was a nice guy and best of all he knew about his job, so John didn't have to lie about it.

"Great I will come around seven."

When Greg was gone, John waited exactly ten seconds before he ran for the secret box containing his gun, the money and the passport. The money and papers were still there but the gun was missing.

Had he really been here? John couldn't be sure. He had seen the gun in Sherlock's possession in a dream. The missing gun could also mean that the team with Greg had found it and taken it. Maybe Greg was too worried about John's condition to tell him that he was not allowed to own a gun.

Tired from the day, John took another pill for his headache and threw himself onto his bed.

* * *

Wednesday:

John looked blindly out of the window, thinking. Since yesterday he had had three dreams, strange dreams from and with Sherlock. The fourth had woken him a minute ago. It had been bit like the first meeting only that the room was missing the rock with Sherlock's painting on it. It had been only Sherlock standing alone in the empty room looking at a blank white wall. Silent tears had covered his face but as John wanted to reach out, call him or do anything to make him stop crying, the dream had stopped and he had woken up in his bedroom. Now, at least an hour later, John had finally found the strength to get up.

Under the shower he had to be careful with the shampoo. He didn't want to feel more pain then necessary. While the water fell on his body his mind finally caught up with him. He wouldn't see Sherlock for another whole five days. John sighed, dried himself down with a towel and entered his kitchen. With a tea and his laptop John started his report; he didn't have much to report, most of the time he had been sleeping or unconscious. When he was finished he thought about his dream again, he had nothing better to do.

* * *

Greg got his key form the small table next to the door. He looked back into the dark flat. No one lived here with him. He was alone. His wife gone, no kids, only a few friends who he was lying to all the time. Nothing and nobody else. He wasn't even sure he could call them friends.

This was his life and sometimes he hated it. It was lonely and useless. He sighed and pulled the door close. Tonight he would go to have a drink with a colleague who worked with him. Someone he thought could become a friend and somewhere deep inside he really wished for it.

On the way to John´s apartment Greg continued to think about his life since he had started working for Mycroft Holmes. It had surprised him when he had been invited to a job interview for a job he couldn't remember having applied to. The cold mask on this new bosses face had nearly made him turn around the second he had entered the room. But he stayed. He had gone through a nasty divorce and would soon be homeless, something he did not look forward to. So what else could happen? He couldn't sink much deeper anyway.

The man with the cold mask, yes a mask, offered him a job, very well payed. He also said he could use the company's lawyer to get a better result out of his divorce and offered him company property to live in. Greg had no idea what company it was supposed to be or what his actual job was, but after the man had told him that they would need his technical abilities he had said yes. He hadn't thought a single second about his old job. Still he was a bit lonely and friendless because people who you rarely saw and had to lie to all the time were not your friends.

Now he had a job in a secret government agency and could become friends with a field agent. Looking forward to the night out he rang the bell and John, already dressed and ready, come out.

"Hey Greg, thank god you are here. I could go crazy doing nothing all day. How do people do this, have a lot of free time?" Greg had to laugh about this. He had heard about people who had no idea what to do when they were not allowed to work.

"I will introduce you to a few pubs around here; don't worry we will make good use of the time." Understanding John smiled at their little time travel joke. It was fascinating. John was glad Greg had offered to spend some time with him and they could finally talk about all of this.

* * *

John and Greg entered the pub. Not many people came on a Wednesday. They had a corner table for themselves. No one would listen to their conversation. Both knew that at least once the topic 'job' would come up and who knew how many pints they would have in them by then.

"So Greg tell me something about yourself. I can't believe that we have been working together for two weeks and we have had no real conversation up to now. I trust you with my life every time I go into HOPE." John smiled at Greg who was apparently a regular in this location. The pub owner greeted him by name. He wanted to know more about the man that was responsible for his time machine.

"Are you specially trained in integration?" Greg smiled at John but didn't really expect an answer. "Okay about me... There is not much to tell and most of it not really interesting either. Since I have been working for Mycroft I have not had anything I could call hobby or free time. I got recently divorced and..."

"Wait. Wait a moment. You call Mr. Holmes... Mycroft?" John found the name strange as it was, but someone really using it…

"Only with you. I call him Boss but his first name is... I don't know. I like it. Mr. Holmes sounds wrong if you know what I mean?" John looked at his colleague suspiciously.

"No, not really." Greg blushed a bit.

"He is a nice guy." John's eyebrow went up. "Yeah I know you have only seen the mask he always seems to wear but he was worried about you when you came back with the head injury or when you stayed in Pompeii longer thank expected." It was true John thought. He only saw the 'boss' never the human being, there must be a reason Mr. Ho… Mycroft was doing that. Greg was right: the first name sounded interesting but he would stick to Mr. Holmes for the moment.

"Maybe." John sighed his thoughts wandering back to Sherlock who always wore a mask and played different roles. The teacher, the healer, the consultant. He was always playing a role.

"You are thinking about Sherlock, right?" John blinked, had Greg said something before that?

"Yes, Sherlock wears a mask too but you know what? I think he shows his real face too, at least sometimes." The man who had been a Viking when they had met yesterday... god it had been only yesterday and he missed him already.

Greg could read the emotions from his face. John, an agent, was in his private life an awful liar.

"Why did you call the machine HOPE?" Attempting to change the topic Greg switched to a question he had wanted to ask since he had read it.

" Sherlock, I asked him and he gave me this word and I found it fitting." He looked directly into Greg's eyes. "I really miss him and I don't know how I should go another five days without seeing him." Again the topic was Sherlock.

Greg saw the trouble in John's eyes. "John maybe it feels like that but you really should try to wait. Think about the time Sherlock has to wait for you, years, centuries. Think about him and these five days won't feel so bad anymore."

"You are right. Never asked him, maybe it doesn't seem so long for someone immortal but I don't think so. Let's talk about something else." John took a sip from his beer and waited for Greg to say or ask something. "Okay, tell me about your ex. How did it end?"

Not the best topic but a good one to get really pissed. Which they did.

* * *

Thursday:

John sat in front of his laptop and read about blogging. He had never really intended to end up looking at this topic but after a restless night with a headache followed by a hangover in the morning John had started to surf in the internet and had found blogs.

Many blogs from people, ordinary people, who told the world about their lives, wrote about what they did or hoped to do, relationship problems, cooking recipes, nearly everything. But most people used it as some kind of dairy to share their thoughts with the world and receive messages from people who read it.

It only took a second for John to find the right side.

* * *

 **Blog of J. H. Watson**

Hi,

I´m new in the blogger business and I will just tell you what happened to me yesterday. But before I start with that I have to go back a bit and start with something else.

I met someone, not anyone, someone special, but not in the way you all might think at the moment. He is special, not only to me but he and I, we share a connection, better we are connected. It might sound a bit strange but we had met the first time a long time ago and we are now continuing our meetings.

The meetings are always short and I only get a glimpse of him and his life that looks long and endless compared to mine. I have met him nearly every day since last Monday and I got to see so many facades of him, each of which showed me a bit of the real man behind his mask.

He plays roles and is really good at it and I am starting to think that he might have forgotten who he once was. But now to the topic of today.

Two days ago I was hit by a falling branch, got myself a nice concussion and I´m off work until Monday. Something most of you would welcome but for me it means I can´t see my special someone. From that day that day I have been having dreams, strange dreams, some even contain knowledge I don't possess.

To make everything a bit easier for everyone to understand we will call my special someone now S.

1st dream:

I was supposed to meet S. where he lived but I dreamed about being in Greenland, with all the snow and ice and cold. He was supposed to go to Greenland after the meeting, together with a friend but all I saw in the dream was the nothingness. Then the daylight disappeared and the night sky with the Aurora and stars appeared. S. eyes have always reminded me of the picture of galaxies and when I saw the stars and the colors I had to think about him and his face appeared in the sky.

That's all I can remember.

2nd dream:

In my second dream he was standing on black sand, like in a dessert, he was holding a case. Thinking of it, it could have been for a music instrument. Anyway in the other hand he was holding a gun, my gun (I´m allowed to have one, for my job). He told me that he wouldn't use it but he wanted to keep it, to have a part of me. He was crying.

When I came home the gun was missing from my apartment.

3rd dream:

It was in a nice living room, a fire was burning in a fire place and a nice old lady was serving tea. She looked a bit like the old lady I met a week ago. S. played a song I had heard in the subway from a street artist, beautiful violin music, sadly I don't know the name of the song.

I think that if I could live with him, I would choose to do it in this flat. It looked like a real home.

4th dream:

The last from yesterday morning was in a room belonging to a museum, like our first meeting. We met in front of a Stone Age painting on a rock. It was the new piece in the museum. We talked but in the dream he was standing alone in the room, without me or the rock and he was sad and was crying again. I tried to reach out for him but woke up before my hands could reach him.

That's all for now. I still don't know why I´m doing the blog thing but it distracted me a bit from the fact that I have to wait another three full days before I can meet him again.

* * *

John clicked on the upload button and closed his laptop. He didn't expect anyone to comment on his writing but he had told it to someone and that was all that mattered. He had gotten it out of his system. There was still a storm going on outside and prevented every outside activity for the day. He needed a new task. Walking up and down his hall he decided to re-watch some of his favorite films. He had bought the DVDs for a reason.

* * *

A dark figure was standing outside in the heavy rain. The black woolen coat did nothing to protect the man from the cold and water. The man had been standing for hours watching the lit window of a certain flat. In said flat lived a time travel agent who was on a forced vacation. The man pacing in his flat was bored and missing something important.

The man outside could do nothing to change it. He knew how desperate you could become when you have no way of seeing the one person that would make everything better.

Sherlock didn't know why he was watching John like that. But it felt right and that was enough for him. Like it had been enough for John to ask him to take a boat and sail back to Europe; he remembers that day in Vinland when a hurt John had been brought to him. He hadn't planned to leave the county, he had liked it there. But John had asked and he had fulfilled his wish. Sometimes he wondered how John had done it in the early days of their meetings.

* * *

Friday:

Friday morning, John was on his way to the office for the final check-up. The doctor of the gentlemen club had written to him something for his 'boss' stating that he was allowed to work again. When John had asked if he could go to work now the doctor had told him that Mycroft Holmes wanted to remind him that he was allowed back to work at Monday, not one day earlier.

With the letter in his pocket and broken hope to get back to Sherlock sooner, John went home. A flat filled with boredom was waiting for him.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson was sitting in front of a big box. She had received her new cupboard which she had ordered on the internet; one of Mrs. Turner's married ones had helped her during their last visit. But now she needs to put it together first. She should ask Sherlock to do it; he was the one who had destroyed the old one with one of his experiments. She still couldn't explain how he had managed it in only one hour and a bit of vinegar. At least he had paid for it but she had forbidden him to enter her kitchen for a week.

Thinking about the young man upstairs her thoughts wandered to another young man she had grown to like, she remembered his promise to come and help her again when needed.

She searched for his number and found it under her address book. Mrs. Hudson called the number and waited.

"Hello?" She could hear that there was a connection. "John, can you hear me?"

"Yes, sorry the phone slipped. How are you?" He sounded as if she had woken him or pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Good thanks, but I need a bit of help. Do you think you put together a cupboard for me?" Maybe she sounded a bit too hopeful but she would enjoy some company and John was a very nice young man.

"You mean order one or put one you have together?" John thought about his talent for building things.

"No dear, Mrs. Turner´s married one ordered it and all the parts came in a box."

"Yes Mrs. Hudson I can build it for you. When would you like me to come over?" John sounded happy as if the distraction was a welcome change for the day.

"How does tomorrow afternoon sound to you? I could also make you something delicious for the tea."

"Perfect, I will come over around three. I will bring my toolbox. Don't worry about it: your cupboard will be ready before dinner."

"Thanks dear. See you tomorrow." She ended her call and got the tray with Sherlock's afternoon tea.

Upstairs she found the man on his sofa, reading. "Sherlock, the weather is beautiful why are the curtains closed? You don't need the lights, the sun is out." Without listening to his complaints she opened the curtains and placed the tea next to his head. "Not your housekeeper, dear." And while she was on her way out she remembered something. "Tomorrow the nice young man from last week will come again and help me with the cupboard. Be nice and don't make him run away." Sherlock suddenly sat up.

"You can't tell him about me. Not even my name." Her boy sounded very much stressed.

"Why would that bother you?" Sherlock never acted on any kind of privacy, his own or from others.

"Please he can't know that I'm here. I will play for you. Your favorites too." Worried she looked at her boy.

"I would like to listen to your music every day. You know that; except when you torture your poor beauty." She stroked his cheek. "Don't worry your head, I won't tell him."

With this Mrs. Hudson left the now less worried man alone in his living room.

* * *

Mycroft had finally found him, Sherlock. He had lived right under his nose for years, decades and it was the first time Mycroft Holmes felt something like that: defeat and worry for the unknown.

The CCTV footage had shown the immortal in front of his agent's apartment. He was a bit worried that Sherlock would lose his nerves after all this time waiting for John. Waiting until he grew up, got the right job and started with the time travel business. It had to be a horrible to have the feeling of being so close to the love of your immortal life and not being able to talk or touch the other person.

He clearly remembered the first and last meeting with the man. The day in the museum. The first day Mycroft had met him, the first day he had seen real love and the first day Mycroft had understood what pain and sacrifice mean.

Mycroft stood in front of the house Sherlock lived in. Baker Street 221, a place John Watson visited without knowing who lived upstairs.

Without knocking or ringing the bell Mycroft found his way inside. The name of the resident was Sherlock Holmes; he had stolen his family name. Not bad, Mycroft smiled.

The connection to the elderly lady from the ground floor was still a mystery but maybe the immortal was in a chatty mood.

He opened the door and was greeted with tea and a man sitting in one of the arm chairs.

"Hello Mycroft, took you a while to find me." It was the same man; nothing had changed in over thirty years. Even for him, who knew about the immortality, it was a bit unsettling.

"Mr. Holmes." Sherlock smiled a bit.

"Do you like it? Thought it was funny. You know and it sounds good in my opinion. Sherlock Holmes. These are hard times for someone without a family name. I have to change it every few years."

Mycroft wasn't sure what to say to this and he hated not knowing. "What were you thinking when you broke into John´s apartment?" He needed to get the lead in this conversation again. He couldn't let himself be outplayed by this man.

It was the worst thing he could have done. He had forgotten about the mood swings when Sherlock shouted at him. "How dare you question my doing? Who do you think you are? I decide what's right to do." Sherlock had jumped up and any man less then Mycroft would have been close to wetting himself but not him. He faced down whole countries; he could handle the misplaced anger of an immortal.

"Interesting way to hide your insecurity, behind anger. I know you have a hard time and I know that you are currently at your limit. But would you really prefer that I risk John's health by sending him back in time with a concussion?" Sherlock sat down again. He hated admitting it but Mycroft was right. He couldn't risk John's health because otherwise they would never meet. They could not do so before the time travel meetings were finished.

Sherlock looked at the man in front of him. He still saw the boy that had given him the push to talk to the child John. He was more than grateful for that. "It won't happen again. I will stay out of sight." After looking out of the window he continued. "But you can't keep me from watching him a bit. Without seeing him I would not stay sane."

Mycroft knew that this was the truth. Without John Sherlock was nothing or worse he was a very dangerous creature. "I will call you when his last journey has happened."

Sherlock looked at the man who wanted to keep him away from John with surprise on his face. "Thank you." And suddenly he saw the man behind the cold mask. The boy who wanted to be loved. Sherlock smiled. Yes this man was looking for his other half like he was.

"I'm sure I will find a crying mess of an agent in the time machine. I would prefer it if someone else would handle it. Someone more suited." Mycroft got up but stopped at the door. "He will need you."

"Good day, Mycroft." With these last words the most powerful man in the whole of Britain left the flat.

* * *

Saturday:

Mrs. Hudson opened the door to John. "Hello John. Thank you for coming. I hope the cupboard is not too hard to build together." John accepted her hug and entered her flat.

"Thank you for calling. I'm glad I can help and an invitation for your tea and cookies is perfect for a Saturday afternoon."

John really was thankful for her call. She was a bit like the mother he had never had. Thinking about it John realized that he had never really had a family. The fighting mess of people he had grown up with could hardly be called family. But you only became an agent in a secret government organization when you came from a broken family. The day in the museum with his mother and sister was one of the few family memories that weren't awful. Not only because of Sherlock.

The cupboard had simple instruction leaflets with pictures; it was easy to understand and follow and Mrs. Hudson chatted next to him. After John had finished his handiwork they set down for tea and, as if the man who lived upstairs had waited for them, a violin began to play.

With tea, sweets and beautiful music it was nearly the perfect afternoon.

"John, what happened to your head?" The wound had started to heal but the area around it was a colorful mix of blue, green, purple and yellow.

"Happened during work. I got hit by a branch. That's the reason why did not work all week and I really miss it. I still haven't found out what to do with all my free time." Not working was far too boring.

"The weather is fine these days, you could go for a walk in the park before you have to go back on Monday. Or you could visit someone. You should always use the time you have. Maybe you could spend it with someone special, if there is someone like that." She smiled at that, knowing that there was someone but it was 'complicated'.

The afternoon went nicely and the beautiful music followed John on his way home.

* * *

Sunday:

Honoring Mrs. Hudson's suggestion John went for a walk, a rather long one that brought him to some of the hidden places London had to offer. After a quick lunch in a café he decided that he had had enough walking for one day. John walked to the next subway station to catch the next train. He found a violinist on the platform.

He played a happy melody that sounded like spring and laughing. John let three trains pass before he could leave the man that was hiding his face (probably because of all the people with phones who were filming him and his music all the time). Tomorrow he would go to work and be able to see Sherlock again.

Happy about this thought and with the music in his ears John went home.

* * *

Monday:

Finally Monday. John hadn't thought that one week could be so long. He would apologize to Sherlock when he met him today. It had only been one week and it had been pure torture; he wouldn't have imagined it being that bad, that he would miss the immortal that much. He had never felt such a deep connection to someone else. No relationship he had had before had been as deep.

After realizing this feelings and the need to be with Sherlock and rethinking of his dreams he finally understood: he and Sherlock belonged together. Full stop.

Mycroft Holmes could keep his sick days because John would go back to the past and meet Sherlock over and over again until their time lines would finally meet and they could stay together.

* * *

 _AN: Next week: A cross and the never dying hope of peace_


	9. A cross and the never dying hope of peac

**Chapter 9: A cross and the never dying hope of peace**

'Present, London - 2010'

John walked down the hallway to his 'office'. He´d see Sherlock again, and nothing would stop him. Not that anyone was going to try. Molly had brought him clothes that looked as if she had taken them from a bishop's meeting in Vatican City.

Molly wasn't happy about his reaction to the clothes, and started in on a twenty minute speech about colors, ranks and the church system that John tried to ignore. He was only saved by Greg, who ferried him away.

"What did you say to her this time? I never saw anyone get her into such a state." Greg looked back to her, as she was writing something down on a piece of paper. "I think she takes notes on all your comments about her clothing."

"I didn't comment on it, really." Looking at his clothes he still thought they looked ridiculous, but it didn't change the fact that Molly was angry, again. "Okay, maybe I said something wrong about the meaning of the colors, but how should I know that they have all meaning? I never went to Sunday school. If you tell me that you knew it, I will never complain about her knowledge again."

"I have no idea. My old man never talked about it, but I think he and the church had a falling out, and he never said a word about the topic again." Greg looked a bit sad as he talked about his father.

Before John could ask about Greg´s father, they were interrupted by Mr. Holmes- or Mycroft, as Greg called him. They have time to talk about this later, on their next night out. "Mr. Watson, I see you are ready for your mission."

"Yes, sir." Standing still, John waited for this task.

"We will send you back to 1095 AD, to the so called Council of Clemont, in France. There is a meeting between the leaders of the church. This is the day they decided to start the first crusade. I hope you are ready. This was not a nice time, and you are going to have to blend in with the high ranking people of the church. Will you be able to keep a low profile and your cover? We can't risk a change of events." The boss looked questioningly at his agent.

"Yes sir. Is there anything specific I should know about the target?" John was going to be nothing but professional today. He was the target, not Sherlock.

"Yes I would like to know what he is doing. Was he part of any specific direction, for or against the crusade? Did he do anything to start or prevent it? How did he get into the council in the first place? Just the normal questions you would ask and get information on." John nodded. There was nothing special about this mission, but at least he would get to see Sherlock again.

Without waiting another second, John jumped into HOPE and started his journey.

* * *

'~1095 AD, France (Clemont)'

Sherlock sighed. That didn't go well. There had been another disagreement with Eudes. Since they had left Cluny Abby, Eudes had changed. Or maybe it was Sherlock who had changed. But the path that Eudes de Chátillon better known as Pope Urban II, was following wasn't a peaceful or honest one. The man had lied to all of his followers, forcing them to believe in the church and God.

"Why am I even here?" Sherlock leaned against a wall. He had finally found a quiet place to close his eyes and rest, when a strange noise from the room behind him made him open his eyes again. It sounded a bit like scratching on stones or iron with another piece of the same material. When he strained his ears, he could also hear loud breathing.

Sherlock was careful to be quiet, in case it was either an important person who was waiting for a meeting in their room, or a burglar that he wanted to surprise so they wouldn't have time to run. He slowly opened the door and looked right into John´s eyes, and behind him was HOPE. He'd seen the man's vehicle before in Pompeii, but seeing as he had been dying a moment later it hadn't been high on his list to observe it. Now he had a good look at the vehicle, and even with all his years of experience, he couldn't understand what he was seeing.

"Sherlock." Hearing John whisper his name stopped all his thoughts. John jumped out of his vehicle and hugged him. Sherlock hadn't been hugged in ages, and John was hugging him as if he hadn't seen him for centuries. It had only been around ninety years, Sherlock figured.

"John? What's wrong, are you hurt?" He had to make sure, since last time his friend had come into his village with a head injury.

"No, sorry." John stepped back. "It's just been a long time since I saw you last." This was strange, Sherlock thought. They had had far bigger gaps between their meetings, this had been one of the shortest.

"How long was it for you?" Sherlock asked. He thought John must still be not 100 % there, because Sherlock could see he was telling the truth.

"Six days."

Six days? Sherlock saw how John switched from being happy to see him again, to the moment that he realized what he had said.

"I mean ..." He would never lie to Sherlock. He knew Sherlock could see through most lies, and besides, John wanted to be honest with him.

Sherlock wanted to know, but John wouldn't or couldn't tell him how it was possible. He'd known the way they met was strange, and there was some kind of rhythm to it. Six days didn't sound long to Sherlock, but it must have been forever to John.

"Is okay, John. You don't need to tell me." Sherlock felt the first smile in ages growing on his face. "I've missed you too."

"You look a bit sad, did something happen, before I came here?" John noticed Sherlock´s eyes weren't as bright as usual. They lacked the spark he used to see when Sherlock found something that made him happy.

"I've told my friend I can't stand him anymore, and he left." John could see that Sherlock was upset. He'd fixed his eyes on something outside the window.

"Your friend?" John asked. Sherlock nodded.

"Pope Urban II, he is... we were friends for many years. He was my companion as I travelled. You know I wanted to find something that was out of this world, so I tried religion, the belief in a higher being. But I couldn't find it, God I mean. Do you believe in God?" John was surprised by the question, he hadn't thought about it for a long time.

"I´m not sure. The last time I prayed was not really out of belief, but because I was out of options." John had never told anyone that. "I got hurt on a mission. I was on the way to save a child of royalty, when something went wrong. I must have been betrayed. Someone gave my location away, and I was separated from my partner. He died, and I was shot in… hurt in the shoulder. I had to save the child, but I couldn't, so I asked God for help. He didn't answer. Eventually we got out. I saved the child and took them home.

My friend was left behind. Sometimes I think that if I hadn't prayed to be saved and help the child, he could've been rescued or gotten out himself. My partner's name was Steven. Hehad a wife and two young girls. I wasn't allowed to tell them about his death. That is a tradition that they didn't let me keep. They practically locked me up, in a hospital to 'heal'."

John huffed. "I was a prisoner. I think I lost the last bit of my faith in God the day I missed his funeral. They buried an empty coffin, and I couldn't be there. They found the traitor two days later. But it was too late for all of us."

Sherlock didn't know what a hospital was but, he understood that it was a place where healers treated people. "I'm sorry to hear that." Sherlock really did feel badly for his friend, but he couldn't change what had happened. It was sad to see a man without faith, Sherlock thought. He had only met a few people that he'd describe that way. One of them was himself the immortal who hadn't found the reason for his eternal life.

"Sherlock, how did you search for your beliefs? I can't quite get my head around how you did it." John was curious as to how his friend who had once pretended to be some kind of god, was looking for something out of this world.

There he was again, Sherlock thought the John that wanted to know everything about him. Maybe one day he could tell him about his life and origin. Someday, perhaps.

* * *

Sherlock had been fascinated by the blind belief that people had in their god or gods. He couldn't follow their thought processes how they followed the rules that fellow humans wrote down, and thought that they did something to deserve the love of their God. Sherlock always believed that if there is a God, he'd be very disinterested in the comings and goings of mankind.

He couldn't understand all the pain and suffering that people have had to endure, people who believed in a god that promised them something in exchange for their worship, and the satisfaction that they lived in his name.

There were many times in all the years that Sherlock had lived with humans that he had been mistaken for a god, like the time he was executed, but it didn't kill him. Sometimes being with humans eased his loneliness, other times he wished he could die or be somewhere else.

Since dying wasn't an option (John wouldn't be happy with him) he tried to find a bit faith. At first, he was surprised it didn't bother him that he was depending on John so much. He had known many people over the years, followed many of them to their (early, in some cases) deaths, and wished that he could have some of them back by his side. But they were all gone now. The only thing he could do was remember them. John, on the other hand, was an enigma. He was special, his existence was not linear like everyone else's. He was in Sherlock's life for mere minutes, or a few hours at a time, but John always gave him the one thing he needed: hope like the travel vehicle he had named.

Returning his thoughts back to the question at hand, Sherlock decided he could at least try to find faith in God. One thing he had in abundance was time. What else was there to do but the best of it?

* * *

Some time before 1072 AD…

The place he had chosen to find faith was the home of the Christian faith. It was the religion that seemed to be growing the faster in the last few centuries. It wasn't his preferred religion but since it was the dominant one, he decided that he should take a closer look. So he went to Cluny Abbey. The abbot let him stay when Sherlock told him that he was searching for God and needed assistance.

Life in the abbey wasn't bad. As one of the biggest Christian communities it was rather busy, Sherlock didn't get bored it offered him a large collection of books. He met interesting people, and could chose to research the Bible or speak with other scholars.

It was in the abbey that he met Eudes de Chátillon. When he went to Rome in 1072 AD, Sherlock followed. They had many heated discussion. Sherlock enjoyed their debates. The two men were never on the same side, but they could have conversations about God, the Bible, belief, and many other topics all night.

When his friend was chosen to be next in line to become Pope, Sherlock convinced him that it was the right path to take. Like many real Christians, he was suppliant about the election. Eudes was made Pope in 1088. Slowly his friend began to change, though at first, Sherlock didn't notice. Pope Urban wanted more than to just be the leader of a religion when he heard the rumor that Christians were being tortured and hunted for their beliefs, he got the army he asked for.

* * *

"Deus lo vult. God wills it." Sherlock glanced looked back at John, who had patiently listened to his journey over the years. "That's his battle cry he got the attention of every Christian. He'll start a war in the name of God. It's not a war about land or religion. The war thing is a cover up to support the Byzantine Empire. The church, and especially Pope Urban, want the Muslims out of Jerusalem." He shook his head.

"The first crusade …" John thought about what Sherlock had said, how his search for faith had lead him to this exact time and place the day they decided to create an army for an unnecessary war. Sherlock was too deep in his thoughts to notice John´s slip, to realize that this was only the beginning that more of the so called crusades would come. John´s question pulled Sherlock out of his own head. "What're you going to do now?"

"Good question. I have no idea, except that I won't stay any longer at a place where people decide that it's a good idea to kill each other. I've tried many times to stop this. I´ll find another way to live, like I always do." This was the first time that John and Sherlock stood together at the point, that Sherlock decided to end one of the lives that he'd created for himself.

A light smile showed that he had made up his mind. He asked John: "Any suggestions as to how to spend the next few years?"

John had to think about it. This was a serious question, and he needed to answer his friend as best as he could. Unfortunately, John didn't know enough about this time period to know where to send him so they could meet next, but one thing was clear. Sherlock was losing himself in the lives of other people. He finds a new friend, is a part of their life and follows them wherever ever they go. "How about you do something for yourself?" John asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe you could do something you want to do alone, not do something because someone else wants to do it, or go some place someone else wants to go. Find a location that you are interested in. I know you like to help people." Was it really a good idea to suggest that Sherlock should be alone? John had to admit that it might not be. "Is there a city that you'd like to visit?"

"John… I´ve been everywhere, and I don't fancy one city especially. It doesn't matter where ..." Sherlock stopped when he saw the look on John's face. He searched his mind for a city he hadn't visited in quite a while, a big one where he could hide. "Paris."

"Ah, there's something. Are you planning on leaving today, or will you try to talk to the Pope one more time?" John´s eyes didn't give away what he'd prefer, though he doubted that he'd get a different answer than his own.

"I think I'll leave today. There' s nothing left to do here. This was already my last try, and I didn't succeed." His time here was over.

As Sherlock looked down at John´s clothes he noticed for the first time that he was wearing exactly the same clothes as him. Sherlock knew that he must have brought them with him, because he had found John just as he left his vehicle. "Where did you get these clothes?" Sherlock knew that he was trying to change the subject, but John didn't seem to mind.

"One of my colleagues made them. Her name is Molly, but I think I hurt her feelings again when I commented on them." John looked down at the perfectly made robe. All the little details that Molly had spent hours on perfecting stood out. "I … She makes all the clothes you've seen see, except the first time, when you were painting the rock. She works hard to make them perfect, and I always do or say something that makes her angry. She's very protective about her work, and I don't do it on purpose, but it always happens."

"So she is a colleague of yours … that means you're working togethe, and nothing more, right?"

"Yes, I'd like her to be my friend, but I haven't done a thing to earn it." John looked a bit sad.

"Although you should treat everyone as someone important, this goes especially for women. You could start by not talking the clothing, since this is always a point of contention." Looking around the room, Sherlock spotted a beautiful white flower there was always one in each council room.

"Here." Sherlock took one of the white beauties and gave it to John. "Start with that. Give it to her and tell her that she's important to you, and that you appreciate her work. She'll like it. It will help you get to the point that you can start building a friendship."

John stared at him for a second. It sounded like Sherlock had lots of experience with people, and John thought that the Middle Ages view on how to treat women could be helpful. "Sherlock you are just amazing." John took the flower. "Thank you."

"You´re welcome. One question. Did you really think you could hide between the people like that?" John looked down at his body.

"Yes, why?" John asked. Sherlock pointed at his head.

"Your hair is all wrong." John´s hand ran through his short blond hair.

"It's good that I didn't have to search for you." They both giggled about the tumult that John had created.

"I should go now. I have many things to do if I want to get to Paris today." Sherlock wanted to stay longer with John, but the danger of getting discovered by someone was too high. He knew that he had to send John away, and he hoped that he would get see him again soon.

"You're right. Thanks again for the flower. I hope I'll meet you soon. Do something great so I can find you and … I´m sorry for staying away for long periods of time."

Sherlock didn't know how to answer that. So he turned to the door, the handle in his hands, and spoke as the door closed. "Goodbye. Until next time, John.

* * *

Getting ready to leave for Paris was no problem for Sherlock. He only had a few things he wanted to take with him. After changing his clothes to something more civil, he filled his backpack with a bit of food and water, a map, and a few books. With a smile on his face, he headed north to Paris, to do something great so John would find him.

* * *

'Present, London - 2010 '

As John opened his eyes, the first thing he did was to check if he had the flower. The white beauty was still as perfect as it had been a thousand years ago when Sherlock gave it to him. He could only hope that Molly liked it. John was also hoping that Mr. Holmes had left, for the day. But hope springs eternal last, they say.

The boss was still in the office, and in a good mood. He didn't comment on the flower, and was happy with the short version of John's mission. "I will read up on the details in your report Mr. Watson."

With that, John and Molly were left alone and as he was got dressed back in his normal clothes. He looked at the flower one more time. Sherlock was right. You should treat women, well, really everyone, as someone special.

"Molly, I have something for you." John reached out to her with the hand that held the white rose.

"For me? But why?" She looked very surprised as she took the flower carefully into her hands, careful not to get pricked by the thorns.

"Because someone taught me today that you should always treat everyone you care for as someone special, and that you show it sometimes so they don't forget." He smiled at her. "Your clothes are amazing, even Sherlock, who can read people, never mentioned any issued with them. Thank you for making the clothes perfect. I always appreciate them, even when my knowledge about the clothing of the past is lacking."

"Thank you John, and tell Sherlock he's a good man, a great teacher, and that he has excellent taste in flowers." She gave him a kiss on his cheek and headed out the door. John knew that Sherlock would be proud of him. He had made her happy.

* * *

Sherlock opened his laptop and went to John's blog, but there were no new entries. Maybe John wasn't using it as frequently as he hoped, Sherlock thought. All that was on there now was the first entry about his dreams. Sherlock hadn't known about them, but he was glad that John had shared them with him, even when he didn't know that he was doing it. The time difference between them was getting exhausting for Sherlock.

He opened the window to leave a messenger on John´s blog. What could he write that wouldn't give him away, he thought, but nothing came to mind Anything he wrote would expose his longing. Any comment wrote would scream his name and tell John that he was here.

Tired of it all, Sherlock closed the laptop with more force than necessary, and went back to bed. At least under the blanket he could pretend that it wouldn't be too long before Mycroft told to get John.

* * *

 _AN: Next week we have ...  
Chapter 10: The architect of Notre-Dame de Paris  
This one is easy to guess. ^^_


	10. The archicet of Notre-Dame de Paris

**Chapter 10: The architect of Notre-Dame de Paris**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John arrived earlier than usual in the morning, hoping that meant that he would have time to get himself a coffee at the shop next door to his office, but he was surprised by what he saw when he arrived. The street in front of the cafe was crowded., John recognized a familiar silver haired man next to a blond woman. It was Greg and Molly.

"Good morning. Did something happen?" Greg turned and nodded, before Molly answered.

"They found a bomb in the mail, and there was another found in the service area." She sounded a bit frightened.

Don't worry, the bombs will be removed and we'll be able to return to work soon." Greg said convincingly. All of a sudden, the sound of the three mobiles going off at the same time got their attention. Return for a new assignment in two hours. Breakfast is on the office's bill. MH'

"That sounds good to me. We could go to the café around the corner." Greg suggested after he read the message from Mycroft. Together they walked through the crowd and entered a nice looking café that John wasn't familiar with. It didn't surprise him that he didn't know this place. He could tell you where to get illegal firearms in Kabul, or where to find non-traceable poison in Mexico City, but the knowledge of where to have a drink in London was information that he hadn't needed until today.

As they walked, John's mind wandered. He wondered if he had only gotten this job because he'd met Sherlock as a child, or had Sherlock met him in the Museum because the man knew he was going to be there? Thinking about the conundrum made John's head hurt, so he pushed those thoughts away. At least having this job meant that he wasn't lonely anymore.

His old job had required him to be a lone wolf, but now he had someone he could go to the pub with, someone that would catch a movie with him. Or, he could visit Mrs. Hudson for afternoon tea. John liked that he had a job with colleagues who wouldn't kill or betray him at any moment. And, of course, there was Sherlock. But John still wasn't sure what the man's role was in his life.

The three of them sat at the table next to the window and ordered their second breakfast and coffee. "Two hours. It's a shame. If we'd gotten that message a bit earlier, I could've had a lie in."

"At least you're not alone, and we can have a nice breakfast together. We don't get the chance to converse outside of work very often." Molly smiled shyly. "Thanks again for the flower John, it's really pretty."

"What flower?" Greg asked John.

"Sherlock gave me a flower to give to Molly, after I told him that some of my comments about her clothing had been misunderstood, and my lack of knowledge didn´t help my case. He wanted to make sure I had a chance to get on her good side again." Greg looked amazed.

"A nice guy, your Sherlock." Greg said. "Mycroft let you keep something from the past?"

John nodded. "He must have been in a good mood yesterday."

"He was." Molly replied. "You know, he accepts every outfit I make for you, without even looking at how much it costs." John lifted his eyebrows at that statement.

"Oh John, I wish you were a woman. The dresses I could make for you would be so beautiful."

John and Greg shared a look at that. Suddenly John was quite happy to be a man. He didn't want to play dress up, not even for her.

"I wanted to ask you something, Greg." John said. "You know yesterday, when we had the conversation about God, the church and religion?" Greg nodded.

"You suddenly looked very sad, and I wanted to make sure that it wasn't anything I said." John was trying to take Sherlock's advice. He wanted to make sure Greg was OK. If the church was something that Greg didn't want to talk about, then John wouldn't mention it any more.

"Yeah. It made me think about my dad. He died a year ago, and it felt as fresh as the day it happened, when we were talking about him."

"I'm sorry to hear that Greg."

"Me too."

"Don't be." Greg replied. "He'd come to terms with it at the end. Cancer."

They both nodded. "Let's talk about something else. What's going on in your love life?"

Both Molly and John stared at him for a moment before Molly answered. "I'm single and don't plan to change that. I love my work, so someone very special would have to come along to change that." She said.

"What about you, John?"

"I've been single for ages. My last job didn't give me much time to date." He wasn't really sad about it. Of course had he dated before, and had had a few one night stands, but none of them had been anything special.

"Greg has a crush on someone you know, Molly." Since the older man had brought up the topic, John thought it was his duty to tease him a bit.

"Who is it? Not Donovan. Please don't date her. She's horrible most of the time." Molly sounded quite concerned.

"God, No." Greg replied. "John why did you say that?"

"You brought it up, and you didn't deny it. In the pub, you said he was a nice guy."

John looked over at Molly. "It's our boss, Mycroft." Her eyes went huge and she looked over to Greg, who hid his very red face in his hands.

* * *

"You don't have to be ashamed. It's fine that he's your type. He isn't mine. So that means we won't have to fight over the same guy." Molly winked at him.

She figured she should give the poor guy a respite, and that it was Johns turn. "So, John. What's going on with you and Sherlock?"

John coughed up the coffee he'd been drinking. "What? Nothing... I don't know, okay?" The other two waited silently for him to continue.

"We definitely aren't dating. Dating hadn't even been invented when we first met. And he's my asset, he's part of my job. I can't be in love with him. Okay, can we change the subject now?"

"Sure John." The table got quiet as a question came to John's mind.

"I want to get him something, but I'm not sure what to get. I'd like for it to be something so when ... I mean if... he misses me, he has something to remember me by."

"I'm not sure you should." Greg said, seriously. "Whatever you choose to give him could change the past, which would alter the present."

Sadly, John knew Greg was right.

"You're probably right, but if John wants to give him something, maybe we should give him a chance." Molly said. "Let's figure out what you can get for him, and if it won't alter time, then I will hide it inside your clothes." Molly looked proud of taking the initiative.

"Really? Thank you Molly."

"I'll just pretend I didn't hear any of that." Greg said. Both Molly and John grinned at him.

"Oh god, when Mycroft finds out, he's going to kill us all. Alright let's go. It's time for work." The two hours, which had been filled with friendly conversation and chances to learn more about each other was already over. It was time to go back to the office.

* * *

When they returned to work, they found new security personal lurking around, and discovered that the security system had been updated. There were more cameras, and fingerprint scanners had been installed. It all looked a bit overwhelming. The metal detector seemed like a bit too much. "I guess Mycroft has his fingers in this." John commented as he took off his clothes to change into his new outfit.

"At least we're sure he's concerned about our safety." Molly said, as she gave him the a hat, the last piece of his ensemble.

"What am I today, Molly? I thought there wasn't much color in their clothes in the medieval age? I looked it up on the internet, and it said that they mostly wore shades of brown." John was proud that he'd researched clothing for her.

Molly smiled. "You' are a merchant. They made enough money to buy colored clothes. You should be fine wearing blue."

"Thanks Molly." John walked over to Mycroft who was looking at a set of blueprints that covered the table.

"Mr. Watson, these are the blueprints of Notre-Dame de Paris, one of the most beautiful churches in the world, and built in the gothic style. I want you to compare these plans to the ones that you will ask Sherlock for. He's apparently the architect that constructed and built the church. I would like to know if there are differences between his plans and the building that we see today." John nodded., It was a simple request. He studied the blueprints for another twenty minutes, memorizing the important numbers so he could compare them with Sherlock´s plans. He smiled as he thought about how he had sent Sherlock out to do something great. This wasn't what John had had in mind, but it was definitely something great.

* * *

 _'~1182 AD, Paris, France'_

John exited HOPE in a small alley. When the door closed, the time machine suddenly changed to look like a wooden barrel. He stepped out of the alley and found himself in the middle of Paris, over eight hundred years after his last visit.

He waited for the right moment to disappear into the crowd. With as many people as there were around, it was easy to hide in plain sight. John didn't know his way around,.so he let the crowd carry him where they would. It didn't take long for him to spot a large, half open area. He remembered that the cathedral was on a hill, so he knew by the lay of the land that he had chosen the right direction. The construction side was breath takingly distracting, but John knew that he had to find Sherlock somewhere in this busy place. What if he isn't here today? John thought to himself. He knew he had to ignore that line of thought and pushed it to the back of his mind. Without any further hesitation, he walked towards the people who were building one of the most beautiful landmarks in the entire city.

John walked around the area. He knew that he couldn't ask for Sherlock directly because he might be living under a different name. It took him half an hour before he realized he could just ask for the architect. He asked the closest worker to him.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the architect. Could you tell me where he is, please?." John asked the man

The worker didn't say anything, he just pointed in the direction of a part of the church that looked finished.

"Thank you." John replied.

John found his way inside, noticing the lack of safety measures. Finally, he laid eyes on a busy Sherlock, who was watching over the construction. John walked up behind him as quietly as he could, but Sherlock heard him. He turned and smiled.

"You know I can feel that you're coming, somehow. There's a change in the air." He turned back towards the church and spread his arms out, to shows John his masterpiece.

"Welcome to Notre Dame de Paris, she'll be a beauty when I'm finished with her."

John had seen the completed Notre Dame. He knew it was going to end up being one of the most beautiful buildings in the world.

"She's great." He couldn't tell Sherlock that the cathedral will survive for centuries, or that he had visited her once, enjoying its timeless beauty. There's nothing that John could say that would prepare Sherlock for how amazing it would become. "When I told you to do something great you really went all out and made it huge, am I right?"

"You said it would be easier to find me, and honestly what else can you do when the church pervades every part of people's' lives? So here I am, the architect of this cathedral. Let me show you around. I know there isn't much to see yet, but it's coming along." Sherlock tugged at John´s hand and led him towards the middle of the building.

"The chapel is already finished. There will be a couple of priests arriving today to sanctify it. We've had already two funerals inside. I am not a fan of having people buried on a construction site, but no one listens to the architect. The main chapel will be the best part. The new gothic style gives the whole building much more character and life. When I first saw the style, it totally fascinated me- the light, the heights, the possibilities."

Sherlock was beaming, there was so much excitement in his voice. A few of the workers stopped what they were doing to listen to him, intrigued by his infectious excitement. John doubted that this was the first time the architect was showing off his work to someone.

"The supporting arches make it easier to build higher, which gives the impression of reaching for the sky. It's the same for the lead lights. The huge windows brighten up the room, they fill it with light and let the sun shine on top of the believers' heads. Look here."

Sherlock pointed up at the gateway between two columns. "The lancet arch also gives the impression of something that is moving toward heaven."

John was more than impressed. He'd seen the finished cathedral, and as Sherlock spoke he could see it again. "How long will it take you to build it?"

"Maybe another hundred years, perhaps longer, but of course I won't be able to watch over the whole construction. You know that I don't age, and someday the people around me will notice. I don't want them to… react badly." John sensed that he should change the subject, so he moved back towards his original mission.

"Would you let me see the blueprints?" John asked. Sherlock looked a bit confused, but before he could tell John that he didn't understand, John continued. "You have the plans for this building, right? I'd like to see them. If you could let me, please."

"Of course. Follow me, they're in my bag., I wanted to show them to you, anyway. I always thought the word blueprints was interesting, but not really telling."

John didn't comment, he just followed the man. Sherlock´s bag was laying next to a building, under the window. The door was open and there were a few people lingering around, walking in and out. They all seemed to know Sherlock, giving him little nods and exchanging greetings. With the bag in his hand, he entered the house, and John followed.

"Where are we?" John asked curiously. As he stepped inside, he saw that it was some kind of meeting room for the people in charge, not Sherlock's home.

Sherlock rolled out the plans for the cathedral on the table, and let John have a look.

The plans looked much different than the ones John had been given. There were some parts of the church that were larger or smaller, and part of a whole building was missing, but John knew that there had been quite a few changes made over the years. It was unlikely that Sherlock had ordered them all. Many people had had a hand in the construction. John thought that maybe the some of the differences were because Sherlock would have will leave soon.

John had to wonder how many years would pass before they would meet again?

John started to think about ideas for what to give Sherlock. It needed to be rugged, something that could withstand the test of time, or at least something that would last for a while. It also needed to have s meaning for both him and Sherlock. But he still had absolutely no idea at all what to give him. Sighing, he returned to the plans and tried to pick out the differences in the blueprints between where he was and the present.

"Monsieur Ciel, we were looking for you. I thought we would meet at the chapel." A group of men came in. Their clothes told John that they were from the church. John knew that iIt was time for him to leave.

Sherlock's attention was on the man in red in front of him, but he heard John´s whispered words of farewell. "You did a great job. That's a nice name by the way. Ciel means sky, right? I like it." Without another word, he left Sherlock to his work so he could return to the present.

Finding HOPE was a bit tricky. John first walked into the wrong alley, then he had to choose between two barrels. Of course he chose the wrong one. When he was finally back in his seat, he pushed the button to take him back home, and sadly, way from Sherlock.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Greg waited to speak to Mycroft until after John had left the building, and the two of them were alone. "Mr. Holmes, you can't send him to the next place. It's too dangerous." John was his friend and he wouldn't let him go somewhere he could get hurt.

Mycroft looked at his employee. "That's not part of your job description. John Watson will be leaving tomorrow morning, like always, and there is nothing you can say to stop it." He turned away from Greg, knowing full well what could happen to his agent.

A hand on his arm pulled him back. "Mycroft, please." Greg's pleading words cut through the oppressive silence of the room.

"I'm sorry Gregory but he has to be there. Without him, Sherlock could lose his way. Please understand." Greg could tell it was the truth, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. Without another word the two men left the building, heading home to their empty flats.

* * *

 **Blog of J. H. Watson**

I haven't written anything since the blog about my dream. I had a really shitty week without S. but it got a bit better when I was finally able to meet him again. He was sad because he'd a fight with someone who wasn't his friend anymore. S. is a bit too focus on staying with someone, it's like he's looking for one special person, but can't find them. It made me want to tell him to do something he probably hadn't thought of.

So I met S. again today. I had previously told him to go out and do something great. It was easier to find him when he was, getting attention from people. S. made something great. In fact,it was more than great, it's beautiful, brilliant and fantastic. But I couldn't tell him that his work would be perfect, and that I loved it and that he should be proud of it.

I hope he had a great time with his project, and I'd really like to meet him again at the same place when it's finished. I believe he'll do great. He always gives 100 %, and that's all that matters in the end.

I guess that's about it. I'm still not sure why I'm writing this, but sometimes it feels good to put the words out there for everyone to see, even when no one knows what I'm talking about.

Good night. I still have work to finish.

* * *

John saved his blog entry and uploaded it. He hadn't really thought about it, but it felt cathartic to write in his blog. He really wished he could tell Sherlock about the beauty of his cathedral. Before he could close the internet browser, a message arrived.

 _Dear J. ,_

 _Giving 100 % doesn't ensure that the product will be good in the end._

 _From Violinist_NumberB_

John was surprised and happy to get his first comment so quickly, and , he tried to find the right words to respond.

 _Dear Violinist_NumberB,_

 _You're right, it doesn't, but if you do your best, you've done everything in your power that you could, and the outcome, whatever it might be, is the best you can get._

 _From J._

John wondered if that would be a good enough response for the person behind the name Violinist_NumberB. Before John could continue that line of thought, another message arrived.

 _Dear J. ,_

 _But what if you can't give 100 % anymore because you tried too long and you're tired? Is it okay to wait for someone, even if you don't know when you will see this person again?_

 _From Violinist_NumberB_

Was it okay to wait? As John thought about it, Sherlock came suddenly to his mind. He had lived so many lives, both good and bad. But through it all, he hadn't given up. Yes he had gotten upset, angry, and destructive, but he continued his journey, met new people, lived new lives He lost friends to time, but he never gave up. You still try.

 _Dear Violinist_NumberB,_

 _Waiting is okay as long as you don't give up. When you give up. you'll never find or be found by the person you're waiting for._

 _From J._

Hopefully he could help this person, it sounded like they were in a dark place.

 _Dear J. ,_

 _I will keep on going and waiting as long as the other person is still looking for me. I'm certain I'll be found. Thank you for the talk, and good night._

 _From Violinist_NumberB_

John couldn't let it end like that. He didn't want to stop talking to this person.

 _Dear Violinist_NumberB,_

 _I hope I helped. Please don't hesitate to write back. Good night._

 _From J._

John waited for another ten minutes before he closed the his browser down. There had been no new messages from Violinist_NumberB. John hadn't thought there were people who wanted to read his blog and comment on it. It gave him the confidence to think that maybe he could write more.

He returned to his report and finished it before he settled down with a beer and an old Bond movie. The weather outside matchied the mood of the movie- rainy and dark.

* * *

Sherlock closed his laptop. He was glad he'd finally written something, and t that he hadn't given away his identity. There were still so many days to come, still so many journeys. He had a feeling that the next one wouldn't be pleasant,. for either of them.

* * *

How would he cover up his interference? Sherlock wondered. He shook his head and stood up.

Only the light from the street brightened the dark hour. The world was silent. He felt like he would never see his friend again. Sherlock laid his hands on his chest.

The metal under his shirt was cold. It hadn't stopped him from doing bad things, or thinking about ending everything, but it had kept a piece of him alive that belonged to John. It was the hope of a life together.

His violin seemed to call to him, and he heeded it. Sherlock started to fill the silent night with a sad melody that fought with the rain and the darkness for attention.

 _AN: The next one will be a bit different:  
Chapter 11: Provence, not a safe place for the witch_


	11. Provence, not a safe place for the witch

**Chapter 11: Provence, not a safe place for the witch**

 _'Present, London – 2010 Thursday'_

It was Thursday morning, and John knew that he should have been at work, or at least on the way, but he wasn't. He was still at home, (and in his pajamas) because he had come back from his mission very late, around midnight. The other reason was that he'd been injured. It wasn't bad,. just a few bruises, but Mycroft told him to stay at home for the day.

By the time John, Greg, and Mycroft had left the hospital the night before, it was already three in the morning. Mycroft told John as he was flagging down a taxi to go home that he didn't have to work in the morning. John suspected that his coddling was for a reason. He had never heard of agents being treated like that before. They had always been seen as soldiers, men that could be replaced., John had worked under these conditions for a long time. He wasn't used to being cared and treated like a human being, instead of a tool.

John's thoughts returned to the task ahead. The report of his last mission. He'd never had a problem writing down the details in the past, but this time, something was different.

* * *

 _Sherlock's blood covered his face. He was looking up with pleading eyes when split and bleeding lips whispered to him._

 _Although the words were so quiet as to almost be unheard or misunderstood, the meaning was clear._

 _RUN_

* * *

The picture of Sherlock in his cell, cuffed in chains stayed burnt in his retinas, even after John closed his eyes. John forced himself to open his eyes again to look at the white screen of his laptop, and the still empty document. What could he write about this mission, one where he had broken the rules more than once? Where he had changed history? John shook his head and took another sip of his cold tea (how long had he been staring at the empty page?) and started to write.

* * *

 _Marseille, France, 1245 AD:_

John entered the city from the north, he had left his time machine camouflaged near the front gate.

The target, Sherlock, was a suspect in prison after his condemnatory sentence. Agent J. H. Watson, witnessed the end of the sentencing.

People Attending: witness- male, around sixty, citizen of the city of Marseille. Former resident of the city of Paris. Worked as contractor, retired to Provence after inheriting his family's land.

Charge: the Target was declared guilty of witchcraft, being an accomplice of the devil, and gaining eternal youth from the devil.

Verdict given by Inquisitor Pere de Bristol, a confident man, around thirty years of age. - Sherlock was to be burnt at the stake at sunset.

* * *

John needed a break. There was a huge difference between writing down the facts of someone you don't know, and ... Sherlock. John had never had a case where the boundaries between work and his personal feelings had been crossed. He really needed to do something about it. He got up and went into the kitchen. He knew that he should eat something, but the thought of food made him nauseous. He finally decided that a fresh cup of tea would do him good.

While the water was boiling, John got his phone out. He really felt like he needed to get drunk- as soon as his report was done and it was a decent hour to get pissed.

 **'Tonight, the first round is on me. JW'**

It only took Greg a second to answer. John figured that he probably had the phone next to him, in case he was needed at work.

 **'Ok, tell me when you're ready. I'll be finished around two. Not much to do here without you. GL'**

John was glad that he had someone who understood him and didn't judge that he wanted to go drinking on a weekday afternoon.

John went into the bathroom, When he looked at himself in the mirror he could see the results of his adventure, not 24 hours before. A huge black eye covered most of the left side of his face. On his neck were the handprints of the man that had to hold him down. He lifted his shirt, where he saw blue, purple and green bruises covering his chest. Seeing himself like this made his hands shake, and the pain of his broken finger reminded him that he needed to take his next dosage of painkillers. John closed his eyes.

Flashes of his keeper's face appeared behind his eye ids. He couldn't forget the brutal hand that had held him down on the dirty ground, or the sickening noise as his finger was broken. He could clearly see Sherlock's scared eyes, and then there was darkness as John was knocked out by a hit to the face.

John sat down again with his tea in hand. He knew that the sooner he started to write again, the sooner he could get drunk to forget the pain and Sherlock's tears. The not quite empty page stared back him from the computer screen.

* * *

John entered the city through the north gate. He knew that the dungeon was located 1.2 km south-west of his current location.

He had no interactions with any civilians. His cover stayed intact, his language and dialect were manageable.

 _John remembered how it physically hurt him to stand still in the corner of the room, as an old man told his story about how he had worked with the defendant and that he hadn't aged the entire time. John had nearly shouted at the man and attempted to tear Sherlock away from the guards that held him down, even if he wasn't in any condition to move. He wanted nothing else than to take Sherlock as far away as possible away from the place where they had pronounced his death sentence a short time ago. He needed to talk to Sherlock, or at least to try to get to him. That was the moment that everything went wrong._

* * *

The physical condition of the target indicated severe torture over a long period of time. The method used to try to glean information was beating (there were bruises over every visible part of his body), whipping (had blood and open wounds on his back), and an all-round poor state of health.

The agent went into the dungeon to investigate. Target was found in a cell underground, in bad condition but able to talk. At around eleven in the morning, while interacting with the target, the guards discovered the agent and he was taken prisoner.

After being beaten for information, he was locked away with the target.

Result: two broken ribs, three bruised ribs, swelling on the left side of the face, a black eye and a broken finger. Order in which injuries were obtained is unknown.

* * *

 _As John opened his eyes again, he saw Sherlock in front of him. One eye was swollen and he was barely able to see his friend chained up, even as close as he was to him._

 _" ...You shouldn't have.. come here." Sherlock's one working eye watched as John sat up. He was only tied with a rope._

 _Ignoring the pain he tried to untie his bonds. "How did you end up here?" All the pressing matters, like how to escape, could wait for a moment. He needed Sherlock to focus on something else. They needed to get away from this prison and Sherlock's impending death. Somehow, they had to escape the pain and darkness inside this godforsaken place._

 _Sherlock must have understood John's intentions. "Notre Dame, it's still not finished, it needs a bit more time. Only a little while longer."_

 _Sherlock coughed and John saw blood trickling down his lips. "I needed to leave Paris for a while, I'd stayed longer than I'd intended to. The first time I left I went north, the second time I went east and this time I went to south of France."_

 _Sherlock leaned back against the wall. "It was not my best idea, or perhaps it was just a stroke of bad luck that I met the man on the street. He recognized me and accused me of witchcraft. The result of which is what you see now. Tonight they will burn me, and I will be dead again."_

 _"What happens after you ... when they burn you?" John was sure that being immortal was fairly complicated._

 _"I'm not sure. Somehow, my body will either heal or regenerate. I'm not there when it happens. Since I am an immortal being, I've only died a few times." Even in death Sherlock could find something to hold on to. John could see that his fire wasn't gone. He'd seen it at Notre Dame. He knew that Sherlock would come back and finish his masterpiece._

* * *

After returning to consciousness, the target and agent were placed in the same cell. Agent determined that the target was still working at the construction site of Notre Dame. To remain hidden, he had moved away every few years. Target was recognized by one of his former workers and brought to trial.

After a last visit from the Inquisitor to offer the target a last chance to confess. Target helped to loosen the agent's rope. Agent was freed and left target in cell in order to keep history intact. Agent left area unseen and returned to the to time machine for his journey back.

* * *

John leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and ignoring his headache. He was done with the report. It wasn't his best work, but he was injured and under the influence of pain medication, so if someone asked, he could blame those reasons for what was probably his worst work ever.

When he looked over the report again, he couldn't find any evidence that it was too emotional. He had not been precise about the time, so they wouldn't find out that he had waited outside the town until the fire and smoke was gone. He didn't mention the talk they had and the emotion behind their words. There was no pain in this report, either Sherlock´s or his own.

 _He couldn't leave without Sherlock, but the look the man gave made it clear that he didn't have a choice. John knew if he stayed he wouldn't survive the interrogation, and wouldn't come back to meet Sherlock, who reminded him that he would survive. John wanted to see him again. But that was only possible if he left Sherlock behind and got away so the people wouldn't d burn him as well._

 _John knew that Sherlock would keep on working on Notre Dame, no matter what happened to him, he would finish his work. After he untied the ropes that bound his hands, he stood up and hugged Sherlock. Yes, he had done the same thing last time, since John had been desperate to see him, but not today. Today was a promise that they would meet again, to keep strong and don't give up. John couldn't do anything else because Sherlock asked him to leave, knowing what would happen soon._

 _Sherlock´s last look was burned into John's mind, but he swore to himself that he wouldn't cry. They'd promised to meet again. And he believed in Sherlock that they would. Leaving town wasn't as hard as John thought it would be. Everyone around him was excited to watch the witch burn, so John escaped unseen. As he reached the north gate, the first smoke appeared in the yellow-red sky._

 _He wanted to leave, to forget, but that wouldn't be fair. John climbed up on the next hill and watched the flames and smoke devour his friend. He waited many long hours until the last bit of smoke had been cleared away by the light breeze from the ocean._

* * *

 **'I´m done, you can pick me up whenever you want. JW'**

 **'On my way. GL'**

John got up, chose a new shirt, and changed into something you could wear outside your flat. The pajama pants fell to the floor. When John looked in his mirror, he didn't see the bruises or feel the suddenly realized that he'd n found what he was going to give Sherlock to remember him by. Glad that this horrible day had had one good thing happen in it, he finished dressing and decided that he wouldn't drink too much after all.

* * *

 _AN: Next weeks chapter: A punishment of God._


	12. A punishent of God

**Chapter 12: A punishment of god**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John woke up with a much clearer mind. It was quite surprising, considering the amount of alcohol that he and Greg had drank the previous evening. He hope his friend didn't have a hangover. After his morning routine, which became a bit more complicated due to his finger being wrapped up , in a plastic bag, he called Molly.

After half a minute Molly answered sleepily. "Yes? Molly Hooper speaking." She sounded as if John had woken her.

"It's John, good morning. Sorry for walking you." John thought that apologizing would get him back in her good graces. He hadn't slept for long after he'd come home in the middle of the night.

"Don't worry. I had to get up anyway. Are you alright?" She sounded worried again, like the night he'd come back.

"Everything is alright. Great, actually. Do you remember our conversation in the Café about the thing for Sherlock? I found it." He sounded very enthusiastic about it, but after last time they met, he wanted to make sure Sherlock had something.

"Really? What is it? No wait, on second thought, don't tell me. But you should give it to me before work. I'll put it in your clothes for today's mission."

"Thanks Molly, you're the best. Let's meet at the Café, there will be coffee waiting for you." They ended the call, and John got ready. A coffee was not enough to repay her for what she's doing for him. He'd have to think of something special for her. Maybe he could ask Sherlock. He seemed to be surprisingly good at these things.

* * *

John was waiting for her in front of the same café that they'd had their breakfast together before. He had an hour before he had to be at the office, which was enough time for Molly to hide his gift and pretend this meeting never happened. What he was doing was against the law. He wasn't allowed to bring items from the present into the past.

On his way to the cafe, he ignored the people who stared at him and his black eye. He knew that he looked like he had been in a fight the night before, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Molly arrived only five minutes later and accepted the offered portion of caffeine. "Thanks for doing this" John said. . "I know it's risky and against the rules."

She shook her head lightly. "You don't need to thank me. I see something beautiful growing between you two, and I'm honored to I help. Now, show me what it is that you got him."

After looking around, John pulled his shirt collar down and took out a metal chain from under his clothes. His military identification tag swung in the air between them.

"Are these your dog tags from the Army?" Molly sounded surprised. She'd known many soldiers, but as far as she could tell, none of them ever gave their tags away, not for any reason in the world.

"Yes, they're mine, and I want them to give them to Sherlock. He … I don't know, maybe he won't even want them. I hope he takes them." John suddenly didn't sound or feel very confident about his idea anymore. What if Sherlock did want them ? What if he was offended or hurt by the offer? Before he could change his mind, Molly took the tags and held them carefully in her hand before letting them them disappear into her pocket.

"Don't worry." She said, smiling. "He'll like them and keep them. He'll be happy you thought about him like that." With those words, Molly stood up from the table and they went their separate ways.

* * *

When John arrived at the office, he was greeted by a clearly huangover Greg. "Sorry. It wasn't my intention to make your last day this week a living hell."

"Don't talk so loud." Greg had a pill in his hand, which he swallowed dry.

"Don't look at me like that. It's just aspirin. You can have your fun now."

"Why, where am I going?" John was surprised that Molly hadn't said something about the next mission that morning at the cafe . He figured that if it was going to be something bad she would have mentioned it.

"It's not about that, you'll need Sally's make up skills." And true to Greg´s words, a moment later John saw not only Molly with his clothes, but also Sally with a makeup case waiting for him.

"First change your clothes." Commanded Sally, and John followed the instructions. He didn't look closely at his clothes, but he could feel the dog tags in a secret pocket over his heart. He was glad they'd found his way back to him. He felt naked without them. But he also knew that Sherlock needed them more than he did.

After he'd dressed himself, he sat down in a chair and let Sally do her job by hiding the purple-greenish bruises under make up, while Molly carefully changed his bandages to something historically correct. When both women finished, he stood in front of his boss, who gave him a small booklet with the title Schatz der wîsheit, or Treasure of the Wise.

John recognized the writing and could understand it. It was about the bubonic plague, the Black Death of the medieval age. "Sir? I'm guessing that I'll be visiting a plague filled Europe. Am I right?"

"Yes Mr. Watson, you have determined your destination correctly. But what you are holding is your mission." John took a closer look. The booklet was about medical treatments for the plague and people who have it. He couldn't find anything special about it. Some German author had written it... until he read though the names, and he found what his boss wanted him to see. The names were Rudolf Schwenninger, Bernhard von Rostock, Heinrich von Lübeck, Heinisch von Sachsen, Albert von Parma and the last name was Sherlock von Franken.

"Sherlock wrote this?" John asked, and Mycroft nodded.

"Yes, he and the other men were assigned by the council of Strasbourg to write this for the fight against the plague that they said had been sent by God. We will send you back to a point before the booklet was finished. I want you to find out how much his status as an immortal lead to this collection of knowledge, was he the leading power behind this and any other relevant information that you can give us."

"Yes sir." John gave back the booklet and entered HOPE.

Now, the journey could begin.

* * *

Anderson entereds the room and found it empty. Not empty of people, but missing one time travel agent and one time machine. "Sir, Agent Watson can' go. He has to come back. His file shows that he has no vaccination for the plague." Mycroft was not amused and debated what to do. But the safety of his agent was still his primary goal.

"Miss Donovan, call him back." Mycroft's commanding voice sent her half running to the communication center. But after calling the agent more than once without getting any signal or answer, they all knew it was too late. John Watson had ran directly into the plague without any protection.

Making another quick decision, Mycroft stood up. "Everyone has to leave immediately. I don't want anyone in this room when he comes back. Miss Donovan, call for Emergency Protocol 'Ladybird'."

* * *

 _'~1349 AD, Strasbourg'_

John lost no time when he arrived, He jumped out of HOPE, hid it and ran right into the small but busy streets of Strasbourg to try to find Sherlock. Due to the fact that John had no idea where Sherlock lived, he decided to go is looking for his workplace. He thought that maybe Sherlock would have a laboratory, but he wasn't sure if they existed at this time.

It wasn't too hard to find him in the end. Strasbourg was no more than a big village when compared to London or any other modern city. John found the only official looking building and entered it without being stopped. It seemed that the guards of had bigger problems other than attempting to check visitors. Thinking back to the what he saw of the city as he walked through it, he could imagine the reasoning behind it. Many buildings looked empty, others were under lockdown. Whole parts of the city were closed off The entire town, had the dark cloak of the black death draped over it.

John had listened to the conversations of the people in the streets. They were all asking the same question. What did they do to deserve God's punishment? John knew that he could answer the question, but it wouldn't help them, since they lacked the understanding of disease transmission and the proper precautions against this sickness. They didn't even understand it as a sickness, the people of this time saw it as punishment. The rules that Sherlock and the other doctors wrote in the pamphlet were the first steps in the right direction. But history taught John that it would be a long time until the plague stopped killing of the citizens of Europe.

* * *

John found Sherlock in a room with five other people, probably the other authors, amongst a ton of books. John knocked before entering and was greeted with a smile and five confused pair of eyes. "John, welcome. How was your journey?" Sherlock was happy and not at all surprised to see him. He really is able to sense me, John thought to himself.

"Hello Sherlock. Do you have time for a walk?" John knew that talking with Sherlock with the other people in the same room was a terrible idea.

"Yes, of course. Gentleman, if you'll excuse me. My friend is only in town for a short time." Sherlock nodded to the other men and left the room, and John followed. He knew that they would talk about it, but people did little else, anyway.

* * *

Sherlock looked good, more than good, actually. The image of him bloody and beaten was still in John's mind from the last time they had met. Even though it had only been a day and a half for John, Sherlock had had 100 years to overcome the witch hunt, burning and torture. John still felt awful for leaving him. Yes, rationally it had been the right thing to do. John wouldn't have survived a stay in a Middle Aged prison.

"How' are you feeling?" John asked.

Sherlock could see the pain of the last meeting in his friend's eyes. He also noticed the attempt to cover up the injuries John had obtained in the cell. They hadn't had time yet to heal. Perhaps in a day or two, no more. This was new entry added to the mystery called John Watson. "I'm fine John, it was a long time ago."

"Last time you said 100 years wasn't a long time." John countered.

"I ... Yes you're right. I said that, but I can't keep going when I let myself be pulled down by something like that." A sad smile appeareds on Sherlock's face. John knew then that something like this had happened before, and that Sherlock has had to keep on fighting.

Deciding that it was time to change the subject, John pulled out his present. Molly had wrapped it up in a cloth for protection inside his shirt. "I told you about my friend Molly, right? She helped me with something that's highly forbidden where I come from.

"She's been a really great help. I couldn't have managed this without her." John was so happy that he'd been able to bring Sherlock a present that he didn't notice the change in Sherlock's face. A dark shadow crawled over his eyes.

"So, she did something. And?" Sherlock´s voice had changed, which gave him away. John looked up. For some unknown reason the usually unreadable Sherlock had jealousy written all over his face.

Before this could lead to something both of them would regret John offered him the wrapped present. "For you." Sherlock looked at the present, then back to John before he took it and unwrapped it.

"I was a soldier once." John explained. " Everyone gets a set of these. They identify us if we die on the battlefield, so our family can be told what happened. These tags give us the security of knowing that someone cares. I'll be that someone for you." John hadn't actually planned to say anything, but it suddenly seemed important.

Sherlock stared at the tags. He lifted a finger and touched the metal as if it could break if it was handled roughly. "They're yours?" He asked, and John nodded.

"And they're very important for you, right?" Another nod.

"And you're giving them away to me?"

"I have nothing else that's more important. Nothing I could give you. I' m risking, mine and Molly's jobs for this, so you'll have something to hold on to in the darkest of times. They've helped me on days when I didn't know if I'd see the next sunrise."

John smiled at him, and picked up the chain. Sherlock lowered his head and let John put the chain around his neck. "You'll never have to fear that I won't come back to you."

"But why?" Sherlock asked. It was a question that John had thought about, but still didn't have an answer to. Maybe one day they'd both understand.

John put the dog tags under Sherlock's clothes with a look that silently reminded him to keep them hidden.

"How's your work going? Were the men in the room your colleagues?" John had still a mission to complete. He couldn't come back empty handed, especially the one time he was breaking the rules.

"…What? Oh, you mean our fight against an invisible death that will probably kill off half this city? Yes, we're doing great." Sarcasm, John mused.

"Ok, it is not that bad, we, my colleagues as you called them and I, are working on a solution for this disaster. We can't figure out where it comes from or how it's spread, but we can help people to prepare themselves and take precautions to minimize the risks. We're writing something that'll be available to everyone. We're hoping that it'll help."

"You're doing a noble thing by working on this. You have much more experience than your colleagues, and maybe your help will change something."

John knew he had the information he needed to give to Mycroft. He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't stay too long. This mission had to be a quick in and out. Taking twenty minutes to talk about dog tags that shouldn't technically even be in this time period had been quite dangerous.

"Sherlock, I have to go now. I´m sorry I can't stay longer."

"I know John. Don't be sorry. You always come back, whether in dark or bright times. You change the world around me, and show me that not everything is simple or linear."

Sherlock was quiet for a bit. He laid his hand on his chest and closed his eyes for a second, feeling the metal chain and the tags on his skin under his clothes. "Thanks for letting me have something of yours."

"Can't wait to see you next time." And with that, John said his goodbyes and left a slightly brighter Sherlock behind. There were still dark times ahead, and many things could possibly happen in the years they were apart. John cleared his thoughts and hit the home button.

Sherlock closed his hand around the 'dog tags' as John had called them. They had his name and birthdate he tried not to think about the fact that his birth hadn't happened yet. He understood that this little piece of metal had been very important to John. Even if the man himself couldn't stay, he had given Sherlock the closestd thing there was to him being there.

Sherlock went back to his colleagues so they could all continue their work. It was all he could do until he saw his impossible John again.

…His.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John opened the time machine and didn't immediately recognize where he was. The room and his office were gone. It looked like plastic covered the entire room, and there were people in yellow hazard suits, looking frightened and keeping their distance from him. One of them took a step closer to John.

"Agent Watson you must leave your vehicle and go to the decontamination shower over there." The man pointed to the corner of the room, where there was a shower with two people in suits with horses waiting anxiously to spray him down. "Agent Watson, I will not repeat myself. Leave your vehicle. Now."

"What's happening?" was the first thing to pop into John´s head.

* * *

 _AN:_ For the next week we have ...  
Chapter 13: My lady, I will follow you into hell and back  
Let´s see if you are able to find out who is one of my favorite female historical people. ^^


	13. My lady, I will follow you into hell

_AN:The next one is a very special one with my favorite female historian person. Jeanne d´Arc. It started with a history project in seventh grade and lets say I was hooked. ^^_

* * *

 **Chapter 13: My lady, I will follow you into hell and back**

 _'Present, London – 2010, Saturday'_

Saturday morning arrived, and John could still not believe what had happened the day before. He had to confess that he felt a bit guilty about taking something into the past and leaving it there. At first, he'd thought Mycroft had found out, and he was sure that he'd be imprisoned, or worse. John´s mind had run wild.

All the men and women in the hazard suits where a part of 'Ladybird', the emergency protocol in case of a dangerous inflectional sickness. Unfortunately, this was only mentioned after he was brought into the military hospital and was stung by more needles than he could count so that they could run every available blood test., He had to piss into a jar and was treated as something that could explode any second. Okay, maybe he wasn't very cooperative after the sixth blood sample that they collected without telling him what was going on.

His boss stood in front of him, wearing a mask to protect himself against infection and waiteds for his agent to answer. "Sir, there was no contact with any infected person whatsoever, I did not enter any locked areas. I am not infected."

"Mr. Watson, you have to understand that we have to confirm there was no exposure, and we need to keep you secure, so that neither you, nor anyone who will be in contact with you is exposed. I apologize for the treatment you've had to endure by team Ladybird, but they have a mission. You should understand what that means."

Yes, John understood, but this just seemed a bit much.

"I understand, Sir. When will I be able to leave?" John felt naked in his hospital gown, surrounded by plastic all around him, with Mycroft in a suit and mask.

"As soon as the test results come back negative. My best guess is tomorrow afternoon."

"What?" John couldn't believe what he heard. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in this bubble until tomorrow, but the look on his boss's face told him that he wouldn't be getting out of there until all the test results come back negative.

"Fine. I'll write the report for the last mission and maybe read something while I wait. Is it possible for someone to go to my flat and collects a few things?"

"We've already done so clothes, laptop, a few books and your toiletries are here."

Mycroft pushed a bag from outside the plastic to the inside of his containment area. "Enjoy your stay."

John didn't even have an answer to that. Sighing and surrendering to his fate, he started to write his report about the plague.

* * *

 _'~1419 AD, France, Domrémy, Lothingen'_

The path through the forest was a long one. Sherlock had chosen it because it was one he hadn't used before. He liked to find new paths. All around him was evidence of the war, it had started many years ago and it looked like France was going to lose to England. Sherlock wanted no part of this war. He had seen enough blood and death and he didn't want to see any more. What he really needed was a bed and dinner, something other than squirrel and crow.

The path lead him to a small village, and after asking one of the villagers he was given it's name, Domrémy. Like almost every other small village, it had a church. A very small one, but he hoped that it was large enough to find something to eat and a place to sleep.

Sherlock entered the church and found a little girl praying in front of a statue of Mary, with baby Jesus in her arms. He didn't want to interrupt her praying, so he sat down and waited. He figured that a priest should arrive soon.

While the girl prayed, his hand closed around John's present. It was nice to hold it and imagine that John was there. He could see the hands that had given him the tags and heard his words, words that meant so much more a promise. John -was- his religion, his God. He had tried Christianity, and had looked into many others, but the closest he came to religion was John. He believed in John. His immortal life was unpredictable, but at the same time boring simultaneously. John was the one thing that had never let him down.

"Hello stranger. Sorry to interrupt your praying, but do you need something?" Sherlock looked up, right into the eyes of the praying girl. Her eyes were clear and pure, as if she hadn't seen a single wrong in this war filled world.

"I wasn't really praying. I'm waiting for the priest to ask for a place to stay."

"The priest isn't here today, he's sick and has to stay at his house. What did you mean that you were not really praying? You pray or you don't, there's nothing in between." Smiling he knelt down to be on the same height as the little girl.

"I was just thinking about my God, not wishing for something. or asking him for help." A least to him, there was a difference.

"If you have no place to stay, I can ask my father. I'm sure he'll help you."

The girl told Sherlock that her name was Jeanne. She took his hand and pulled Sherlock out of the church and through the village to her home. he saw that it was a huge farmhouse, and he figured the family had to be one of the wealthier farmers in the area.

Sherlock was welcomed by Jaques d´Arc, Jeanne´s father. He offered a place to stay as long as Sherlock liked, and invited him to dinner without asking any questions. The dinner was delicious. Isabelle Romée was a fantastic cook, and it wasn't a lie when Sherlock told her that this was the best meal he'd had in over 100 years. They all laughed and Jeanne played with her three siblings while the adults enjoyed a glass of wine.

Many days followed in the peaceful family life, far away from the war, in the company of the praying girl who laughed with Sherlock and listened to his stories. She made him a bracelet out of flowers to wear as he left, and said that she will miss him. He had to promise to come back before she'd let go of his hand.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Saturday '_

John was bored, something that didn't happen too often. He was always on a mission, preparing for the next assignment, or researching history. But he didn't feel like asking about where he's going next. There's no use. Maybe if he knew the year, he'd have a good idea, but without that he didn't have a clue. It could be hundreds of years until he met Sherlock again in his timeline.

After reading the same sentence in his novel for the third time, John closed the book and took out his laptop. The report was finished and sent,d but he could work on his blog.

* * *

 **Blog of J. H. Watson**

 _Dear Readers,_

 _I´m really excited that I can call you that, because I got my first comments. Let's just say I was surprised that someone is reading what I'm writing._

 _Yesterday I was able to give S. a present. He was very surprised and asked me why I gave it to him. I couldn't answer the question, because I had no idea why I needed him to have something to remember me by. But I hope he liked it and kept it. It's something I hadn't thought that I would ever give away, something important I would have otherwise held onto until the day I die. Giving it to S. was both the easiest and the hardest thing I've ever done. It's a bit hard to explain, but it was easy because I just knew he should have it, as if the item was meant to be his._

 _That's all for today. I just wanted to write this down both for myself, and everyone who is reading this blog. Have a nice weekend, and good night._

* * *

John posted the short blog and waited for a while but no comments showed up. A bit disappointed, he closed his laptop and tried to read his novel again.

Little did John know that a person with the online name Violinist_NumberB was reading his blog. While he read, he held onto something hanging around his neck, something that had been there for ages. He wanted to respond that his S. was holding on to it, and that it was very important and had helped more than John could imagine, but he didn't write back. He knew that he couldn't reveal himself.

* * *

 _'~1421 AD, France, Domrémy, Lothingen '_

It wasn't normal for Sherlock, but he just couldn't forget the praying girl. So it wasn't a surprise that he found himself back in her village only two years later. He had visited the border of Spain, and had been thinking about settling down somewhere there, but he didn't find any particular place that he preferred.

In a market in Barcelona, a blooming and growing port city, he found a beautiful wooden cross that made him think about Jeanne. He remembered her eyes, filled with a light that had seen no evil, despite growing up in a time of war. Without thinking about it, Sherlock bought the cross and traveled to the tiny village of Domrémy again.

She recognized him immediately, and caught him in a tight hug. Sherlock was invited for dinner and once again told that he could stay for as long as he wanted. The whole family was happy to see him. He stayed five weeks, during which he helped in the fields and the kitchen, he played with and educated the children, and went to Mass with Jeanne and her family. He was a silent companion when Jeanne was praying in the church on her own. He used the time to think about John.

He knew that John needed some kind of sign to be able to find him. But he couldn't think of one he could give. Every time, after praying, Jeanne would ask if he had prayed and Sherlock would answer truthfully. No he wasn't praying, he was just thinking about his light.

She always giggled when he said that and led him back home, holding onto his hand and telling him stories from the bible, or something that Christ had done. Those were quiet and peaceful times.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Sunday '_

A knock on the door made John look up. He really hoped it was his doctor, but instead he watched as a smiling and chatting Mrs. Hudson enter his room with a mask covering half her face.

"Good morning my dear boy, how are you?" John couldn't believe she was here.

"I'm fine Mrs. Hudson."

She gave him a bag full of homemade cookies. "Thank you, but how did you know I was here?"

"Silly you. We had a date. You were supposed to visit me for tea this afternoon. A nice young man came to my flat and told me that you were in a hospital and wouldn't be able to come by today. So he gave me the name of the hospital."

There was only one person she could mean. It was a bit frightening that Mycroft Holmes was watching his every step and knew his coming and goings. But Mrs. Hudson could be even more frightening.

"Did you really make Mycroft Holmes tell you where I am?"

"Yes, of course, dear. How could I not come and visit? Hospital food isn't the best, you know." She winked at him. Her look told him that he better start eating. She was a treasure.

She filled the rest of his morning by telling him everything he wanted to know, and more.

" … And my tenant, he's sometimes such a workaholic. I found him yesterday at his computer, just staring. I came back an hour later, and he hadn't moved. He totally ignored the tea I made him, he was still staring at that bloody thing. I had to close it to get his attention. He was completely spaced out. Told me he couldn't write someone important because for reasons that I wouldn't understand. I'm a bit older than he, is and believe me I've had my fair share of relationships, both good and bad. Anyway …"

John listened patiently to her stories and munched on the delicious cookies she'd made specially for him. John enjoyed her company land actually started to relax for the first time since he came back.

And suddenly John realized that he had found friends for the first time. He could count friends among some of his colleagues, like Greg and Molly, who helped him even when they knew they shouldn't. They've had some good times together in the pubs and cafes. He knew they would answer if he called them. Mrs. Hudson, in a very short time, had become something close to a mother, someone that worried about him. His boss also sometimes worried, and wanted to keep him alive. That was totally new for John´s line of work. He'd found a home, a safe haven where he could live without fearing betrayal, and death every moment.

* * *

 _'~1425 AD, France'_

It took Sherlock nearly four years before he could return to the village again. He knew that it was a risk to come back. When he arrived, he found her village destroyed. It took him another three weeks to find the family in their new home. They'd had to flee from the English army that was advancing, and had made the whole area north from the river Loire their own.

Her parents told him that Jeanne now spent more time every day praying, since they'd had to leave their home. A short time later, Sherlock found her in the church, praying. She had become a beautiful young lady, with longer hair than she'd had as a child. But what had really changed were her eyes. They had still the light that Sherlock had loved, but in the four years that he'd been away, he saw that a strong will had grown inside of the girl. She had a confidence that nothing would ever stop her.

After she finished praying, she told him about the voices that she had started hearing a few weeks ago. She said that it was the voice of the archangel Michael, and it had ordered her to lead France to victory against England, and to help the Dauphin of France, Karl VII, to become the rightful king.

Sherlock listened to her stories about the voices she heard and the mission she had to accomplish. Not knowing how to respond, he kept quiet. God sending angels to talk to a girl, his little (well, not so little anymore) praying girl that kept the light of life in her eyes was something that Sherlock just couldn't believe. He had lost his faith in God and the religion that mankind had created. This child would follow the voices, he was sure of it. Her strong will was enough to ensure him of that.

He decided to stay a bit longer. He listened to her recounting what the voices told her, and watched the world around them become darker. The point of no return for France was coming closer, and Sherlock could feel that his little praying girl would play an important role in the game of power created by men.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Sunday '_

On Sunday afternoon, a doctor finally came into John´s room. Mrs. Hudson had left an hour earlier, leaving behind an aura of motherly love and happiness. The doctor checked in on him, giving his old injuries a good look. The doctor didn't ask how he'd received those injuries, but he was asked to be more careful in the future.

John didn't respond, he couldn't promise him that.. He was told that all the test results were negative and John was told that he could leave as soon as the paper work was done. He got dressed, signed himself out, and walked through the park on his way home. He thought a walk would do him good after being imprisoned for two days in a plastic bubble. The sun was shining for a change in London, and John took advantage and enjoyed it. He had been told that he would be allowed to go back to work tomorrow, and he was excited to see Sherlock again.

How long had it been for him?

* * *

 _'~Dec. 1428 – Jan. 1429 AD, France, Vaucouteurs to Chinon'_

Jeanne and Sherlock left her village, riding on two strong horses to Vaucouteurs, where the governor was living. They needed his support to get an audience at the castle of Chinon where Karl VII lived.

It wasn't easy to get an audience with the governor, but after the third attempt with Jeanne´s unbending will they were allowed to see him so she could tell him about her mission. Without Sherlock's help, she persuaded the man to let her see the Dauphin.

That night, she told Sherlock that she was really glad to have him by her side. She said that he was her guardian that would be there as long as she lived. She didn't ask if he had prayed. By know she knew that they didn't pray to the same God, and she didn't want to start a fight.

It wasn't until January when they finally could finally continue their journey, with rested horses and a new destination. Sherlock rode close to his praying girl, who had become a lady without him noticing. He was now part of a war that he hadn't intendedt to participate in. But he wouldn't stop Jeanne, who he knew was following her faith. It would break her if he tried to stop her, even if he knew that the way they were following was a dangerous one that could easily lead to her death.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Monday '_

"Good morning sir." John met Mycroft on his way to his office. It was a rare opportunity to talk outside their work environment (except for their short talk in the hospital). "Could I ask you something before we go to the office?" John´s calling their rooms 'offices' had been adopted by his colleagues.

"Yes, of course. What can I do for you, Agent?" His boss sounded a bit distracted.

"I wanted to ask if you always treat your agents like this?"

A raised eyebrow let John know that he had to be more specific. "I mean, do you treat all your agents as if they're irreplaceable? It's never happened to me before. I always felt like I could be replaced by any other soldier or agent. We were all the same. Just numbers in a system working to get the next mission done, and if you died, another will do the job for you."

Mycroft looked at his agent, deciding silently if he should tell him the truth. He decided to tell him a shade of it. "Agent, you are an important part of our time travel mission, and it is very important that you survive and are fit enough to continue your mission. We can't just send anyone back in time. It has to be you. You have to endure my protectiveness, it's for the sake of our mission. Is that all, Agent?"

"Yes sir." They separated and John continued on his way to meet with Molly to get his new clothes.

* * *

 _'~Feb. 1429 – May 1429 AD, France, Chinon to Orléans '_

Sherlock despised the Dauphin. The worst part was his attitude about Jeanne. He knew that it was because she was a woman, and below his station. But she offered him the miracle he seeked, the throne, which was an idea that he had given up on. He had surrounded himself with emptiness, showing off a fortune that he didn't have, and power that he never would never be able to obtain without her.

He needed a sign, a sign from God shown to him by her. Sherlock couldn't be in the room with them when it happened, and she never told him when it was over what she had done to get the Dauphin on their side, to get him to fight. She and her mission had been approved by the man, but that didn't mean she could be leave right away.

They tested her and the church she believed in. Sherlock watched her from the shadows while she defended her beliefs and her mission. He couldn't believe that the men who had waited for her now fought against everything she stood for, and who she claimed to be. After three weeks of talking and questing and enduring a very embarrassing test of her status as a virgin, they were finally able to leave.

She wore a armor like a man, and an army followedi her into battle. By all logical accounts, they should have lost, but under the white banner of God they followed her. Its was a long series of battles until they finally marched to Orleans, the city that had heldoff the English soldiers, preventing them from taking over the whole country. The city was the last bastion between them and the crown.

Sherlock couldn't explain why they won, perhaps they had been motivated by Jeanne´s speech, but the French soldiers fought and won.

After six months without hope of a victory, they got the the city of Orleans back. Many more victories would follow, and Jeanne would lead the French army against the English.

Her courage and will to do everything for her mission meant that she stayed on the battlefield after a arrow hit her in the shoulder. Sherlock had to give her some of the secret potion he had, to dull her pain, stop the blood loss, and give her the strength to go on. It had a few side effects, but it meant that she could continue fighting, leading her men to do things that Sherlock hadn't even thought were possible.

Sherlock stayed close to her, like he had for so many years, and he hoped that he would be part of her victory when she completed her mission.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Monday '_

John quickly dressed in his new outfit. After asking Molly about the details, she offered him a bit of information about his destination. He was going to France during the Hundred Years War. While listening to her he remembered the case file he had gotten on his first day. He wondered if he could get it back to to read it again. He wasn't sure why he wanted to re-read it, it but it could make this trip a bit easier.

"Greg, what do you think, should I ask Mycroft for the file?" Their boss hadn't yet returned from from his emergency meeting with the Prime Minister.

"I'm not sure if he would give it to you. It has classified information, and that can't leave the building." Greg clapped John on his back and pusheds John towards Mycroft, who had entered the room a moment before.

"Sir?" John hoped for the best and decided that he better ask before he lost his nerve.

"Agent. Your mission´s destination has already been given to you, so I will give you the details. We know Sherlock was a close companion to Jeanne d´Arc, France's national hero in the fifteenth century. We would like to know the details about his interference in the war and her life."

"Yes but sir, but I have a question."

The look Mycroft gave him nearly made John swallow his words, but he had infiltrated enemy bases. That was deadlier than the look he was getting right now. He decided that he wouldn't bow down to this man. "I'd like to get the file you gave me at on first day."

"I hate to disappoint you Mr. Watson, but that isn't possible. Now, we need to continue with our mission."

John thought there had been a small hope that he'd be able to get it but now he knew that there was none. It would continue to be a surprise to him about where he iwas going to travel to next.

* * *

 _'May 1430 – May 1431 AD, France, Compiégne to Rouen'_

Sherlock knew that he would never forget the first day of a long dark was the day they lost for the first time. In the days that followed, no victories came. Then, a year after Jeanne started her war, the betrayal happened. It was something that Sherlock had thought about. Betrayal is always a constant companion on the way to success. It waits in the shadows, ready to step out into the light under the cover of a friendly face. France betrayed her, and then looked away as she was arrested in Compiegne by John II of Luxembourg. She was taken to Burgund and kept as a prisoner. Sherlock followed her and tried many times to free her, with no success.

She was sold to John of Lancaster, and there was another failed escape. Sherlock became desperate. He couldn't watch her stay caged like an animal, and he most certainly couldn't witness her now ensured early death.

Almost a year after her arrest, she was found guilty on 67 different counts, from worshipping the devil to murder. The courts determined that because she was not a soldier, every man she had killed on the battlefield counted as a murder. They threw her out of the church and doomed her to death, the same death that Sherlock had endured nearly two hundred years before. She was to be excommunicated and put to death by fire. Sherlock was surprised that they'd had no new ideas in the last two centuries.

Sherlock found the cross he had given her years ago, it was with her clothes. They had taken it away from her. In a last ditch escape attempt, Sherlock climbed up the tower she was imprisoned in. He found her kneeling on the cold floor in the moonlight. He could have stopped her, but just like at their first meeting, he didn't Interrupt her, he waited until she was finished. Her unshattered faith was all that she had left.

While he waited Sherlock sat at the window, looking up at the starry sky and asking a God that he didn't believe in how he could hurt this little girl. At the same time he thought about John, and how much he wished that he were here. Maybe he'd have an idea. But John wasn't here and neither was her God.

"Are you praying to your God, Sherlock? Is yours answering?"

With a sad smile and the knowledge of how the day that was only a few hours old now would end, Sherlock shook his head. "No, my Lady. We will face the fire without them." He gave her the cross and she quietly thanked him.

"Don't hate them for not answering. Everything happens for a reason, even my death. We will win and my death will be the beginning of our victory."

The next morning the guards took her, prepared her, and put her on the stake. She was told that she would be burned at midday. Sherlock stood where the day before had been a market stall selling fruits and vegetable. A single tear ran down his face as the fire started. Jeanne gave him one last look of confidence. She knew that this was the right thing to happen. She believed it. That was the reason that he stood there, surrounded by the loud and cheering crowd, watching her burn by the fire that her God had sent to give life. It wasn't her screams that broke him, or the moment the last spark of life left her eyes. It was the second that the fire, body, and wood collapsed and all that was left was ash.

Sherlock waited until the flames were gone and collected the ash. He carried the remains of his friend to the riverside where they'd had a moment together between two terrible battles. It was a private time, when it was only the two of them, and Jeanne could be his little girl again. That beautiful, innocent child that had only light inside her, and had shared it with Sherlock, who had seen darkness and carried part of it within him.

The ash was carried away in the wild waters of the river Seine.

"Good bye my Lady."

* * *

 _'~1431 AD, France, riverside Seine'_

John arrived shortly after sunset. He had no idea where to start looking for Sherlock. Mycroft only said that he would arrive after the fire and after the ashes of Jeanne d´Arc had been taken to the river. So he started walking up and down the river side, hoping to find Sherlock before he decided to leave. Extreme sadness filled John's heart as he listened to her story. Of course he knew the story of Jeanne from the history books. Everyone had heard of her, but the fact that Sherlock was one of her followers, her companion and a part of her army was new to him.

What John found at the riverside of the Seine was not surprising. A grieving and angry Sherlock was watching the river as the water washed away the final remains of his friend. Before John could say anything or come any closer, he felt a change in the air. Sherlock stood up and turned around, stalking angrily towards John.

"Why are you here? I needed you hours ago. I was praying for you to come. I called your name up to the heavens, hoping you would hear me, but you didn't come. Why bother now?"

John swallowed the words of greeting that he'd been about to say. Now wasn't the time.

"Sherlock, I didn't hear you. I can't appear magically at any given moment. I wish I could, and I wish I'd heard you. I would have come. Please believe me." Apparently, that hadn't been the right thing to say.

"Believe you? How could I? You weren't there. No one was, and they took her away from me because she wanted to help. That's what you get for trying to do something good, a pile of wood and a fire." John knew that he wasn't only talking about Jeanne, but he also meant his own fire 200 years before.

"I´m sorry, Sherlock. Please …" John tried to take his hand, or hug him or do something to show him that he was there for him. But Sherlock pushed him away.

"Leave. I don't need you here." Sherlock turned away.

"Wait, Sherlock."

"I said leave!" He shouted. A fire burned in his eyes that were damp with tears. "Don't come back just to see me suffer." Sherlock walked away and left a shell-shocked John behind. The stars rose and the world got a bit of its light back.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Monday '_

The time machine came back a few minutes after its departure. A shaken John left the capsule and stood in front of his boss. Without looking at him, he told Mycroft that the mission was a failure, and that the target had sent him away. He didn't get any information on Sherlock´s role in the war, or about Jeanne. He had nothing.

Without waiting for information on his next a mission, orders, or instructions, John left. Molly was sure she saw tears in his eyes as the door closed behind him.

* * *

 _AN:_

 _Preview for the next week:_  
 _Chapter 14: Bloodlust_


	14. Bloodlust

**Chapter 14: Bloodlust**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John's alarm clock started and was turned off after the first noise. John was still looking at the celling; he hadn't slept for a single second this night. After the failed mission in the fifteen century he had locked himself away. First in the locker room (yes, they had one but no one ever offered John to use it for changing his clothes) and after changing back in his normal clothes in his flat. He hadn't waited as Greg called him, or stopped for Molly at the door. He only wants to go home, sleep and forget this day ever happened. It hadn't worked, sleep normally comes easy to John but not this time. All he could think of was Sherlock's hatred look and the word 'leave'. Would his friend ever talk to him again?

While the darkest hour of the night John thought about going back before Jeanne's death to save her or Sherlock or whatever he could do but when he goes back he would erase the very reason why he traveled back in the first place and John wasn't sure it was a good idea. Not that he was anger to get fired by using government property for private purpose. It would take away his chance to see Sherlock again.

John continues to watch the celling and the growing light. What time will he meet him today?

After another ten minutes he decided he could stay in bed or fight, fight and get Sherlock back because John couldn't imagine a life without him anymore. Ignoring the deeper meaning behind this John get ready for work (battle).

* * *

Sherlock watched John entering the subway station. He could see which one was the last meeting. There were a few really bad ones. The one in Marseille, Jeanne and the one coming wouldn't be better. Not that the plague was a good time but at least he hadn't hurt John with his words or with what happens to him.

His place at the window of a Cafe was a good place to watch his friend. Of course he wears a disguise but he couldn't be careful enough. One wrong move and it would be all lost.

Mycroft had visited him yesterday and ask about the reason why his agent ran away in tears. Yes, he had hurt him more then he realizes at that time. Poor John if he had known that the tags were the only thing that had kept him sane.

It always hits him when a friend dies. Over five hundred years later it still hurt him thinking about her and all the others he had lost over time. Only John was left he comes back, always.

* * *

In his years working with the government Mycroft Holmes had leaned many things. He did things that the majority of the population thought were stuff from spy movies, he ordered men to walk into their own death, voluntary but time travel was the one thing he had to get used to the most. He wasn't a fan from physic but he had read every book that even remotely had something to do with the topic time.

As John Watson enters their office Mycroft watched as all of his colleagues behavior changes. Miss Hooper stopped her conversation with Mr. Anderson to approach the agent first. Anderson disappears out of the room said he had to check something. Miss Donavan was suddenly very busy with a perfectly fine working microphone and Greg he came out of his workplace the second he hears Watsons voice.

Mycroft shakes his head as he notice what he did again. Only Greg was on first name base in his mind. This man had something special and with all his brain power he couldn't figure it out. For a second he remembers back the look Sherlock had in his eyes as he saw little John Watson in the museum. That longing all-consuming look that his child self wished that someday a very special person would look at him like that.

His agent came, dressed and ready for the next mission standing in front of him. "Good morning sir. My apologies for my behavior yesterday. It won't happen again." He seems fine but no man was fine after he left crying the day before.

"Good morning agent. No apologies necessary. Your mission today will get you into the beautiful landscape of Transylvania." Being professionally was his second name and continuing the mission was very important. Mycroft could read the second his agents mind had made the connection. "Yes Mr. Watson you will meet Vlad the Impaler, better known as Dracula. For your information vampire are not real."

"Sir until a few weeks ago was immortality and time travel fiction as well." He has a point.

"Yes but you will have a look behind the stories. We have no visual prove of Sherlock's presence but the legend from an immortal didn't happened out of nowhere. Find out if he was there and what he did."

"Yes sir." John turns around and enters the time machine.

"Good luck." Mycroft mumbles without letting it hear anyone.

* * *

 _'~1460 AD, Romania'_

John had only one thought in his head. Finding Sherlock and ask for forgiveness. He couldn´t see a future without his galaxies-eyed-man who became the most important thing in his life without noticing. He was send away, but that doesn't mean he can't fight for this. Whatever thiswas.

The village or city he wasn't really sure was called Targoviste and the information HOPE was giving him told John that he was in the Wallachia, Romanian, not that it would help John in any way.

Rumors of an immortal origin in this place, he couldn't even be sure that Sherlock was here. Best thing he could do was starting his investigation by asking the villager.

His first contact was with a nervous looking elderly lady. She told him that expertly a year ago had their Lord killed (beheaded and staked)300 merchant from Kronstadt, to get the trade rights back.

A young man told him about their Lord, Vlad III. also called Draculea, son of the dragon. John could imagine where the Dracula thing came from. Vlad as part of the order of dragon earned that name. Some believe it also stands for son of the devil but this comment came from a very unreliable source. A homeless man who told him in the next sentence that he had seen Jesus.

John get to know a lot of positive response about their Lord too, not only fear lives in the hearts of the people. Two soldiers told him that Vlad rebuild and improve the castle with a wall, that they would be protected when someone attacks. It seems Vlad did this with many defense buildings in his land.

The only information John couldn't get was the one he was looking for. Every time he ask about an immortal, the name Sherlock or something closely related to vampires the villager would shut their mouths and walk away from John as if he has some kind of disease in the end, around noon, no one was talking to him anymore.

After the sixth person ran into his house and locked the door John had enough he decided that it is time to visit Lord Vlad.

The way into the castle wasn't easy but sneaking inside a building was something he was really good at. At least his bosses thought that. He could enter through a side passage with a few servants who brought the horses in. He had to thank Molly later on for the perfect disguise. He could blend in without them noticing that he doesn't belong here.

The way down stairs wasn't as easy as entering anymore. John had to hide every few meters because of the guards that walk through the castle. Finding the dungeon was easy; nearly every cell was filled with prisoners. Most of them were injured and their marks let only one conclusion be the course of it: torture.

Searching the cells didn't bring any success. All the men and women didn't come close to Sherlock's appearance. One of the prisoners looks not too ruffed up. "Hey can I ask you something." The man looked up at him with tired eyes. John counts that as a yes. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. He is very tall has black hair and his eyes look like the starry sky."

"Don't know him, haven't been around here for long. Ask someone else." The man sunk down again, tired of talking, already broken by the treatment. He really hopes that he finds Sherlock.

Before John could ask the next person the metallic sound of metal weapon appears behind him and something heavy hit John from behind. Not really unconsciousness John could feel himself be lifted up and half carried, half pulled away from the cells. They lift him up the stairs and after he was brought through a heavy door he was thrown in front of someone. Slowly John sits up feeling his head and finding the first signs of a huge bum. His eyes try to focus on the other person in the room and to his surprise he recognize him from a documentary about Transylvania, this was Vlad III. The artist who had painted the painting he had seen was really good, he had capture the appearance of the Lord perfectly.

"How did you enter my castle stranger?" The voice was cold, calculating and let John's blood freeze in his veins. When Sherlock isn't here he is as good as dead.

"I entered with the servants; no one is ever acknowledging a servant. A very huge security hole you have to fix." Vlad doesn't seem bothered by Johns mission of respect.

"And the reason for you break in is telling me that my walls are still not secure?" He nearly looks amused.

"No, I'm looking for a friend, I heard rumors about him and I came looking for him."

"Rumors? Oh I think I know what you mean. You are interested in my army, my immortal army of unkillable soldiers."

"What? No his name is Sherlock; I don't want to be part of any army." Not anymore at least. John couldn't see the end of his time travel missions and he doubt that he would be able to do something afterwards, if he should survive long enough.

"Guard." Vlad's loud voice pulled him out of his train of thoughts. "Bring me the experiment research material." The guard behind John disappears. What does he want with some notes or books? Maybe he had lost interest in him and he could leave. As the guard came back he doubts that very much because he was pushing someone else into the room. This someone was ...

"Sherlock." John called out and was meet with his friends shocked eyes. Physical Sherlock doesn't look too bad, no new injuries, clean clothes and washed recently.

"Oh no John what are you doing here." Sherlock doesn't look as if he was happy to see him. This could have more than one explanation. But they were interrupted by Vlad.

"So you two know each other. Great but I will introduce you anyway. Experiment meet new pressure point. The evil smile was enough to tell both men that what will follow would be very unpleasant for them. "Sherlock tell me how do I get my soldiers the same gift you have." Something tells John that this was not the first time Sherlock was asked this question or the hundreds. Both men look at each other and with a more then impatience and nerved look. "Good thing we have a new toy today. You weren't overly impressed as I showed you the 300 people last year. You could have saved a few. Not all of them of course still had to make a point. Guard hold our experiment. I will introduce his friend to the proceeder."

Sherlock was a second later in a secure grip. "No, please don't hurt him, he has nothing to do with this. He is only a human he is not like me please don't do this." Sherlock's desperate shouts doesn't go unnoticed.

"Oh but I will hurt him, alone for his lack of respect and breaking into the castle. Getting to you is just a bonus." Yes, right now John wished that he had chosen another way to find Sherlock. "It will be less painful for him when you tell me now but I have time." Vlad's sadistic nature came out to play, not even the guard looked happy to be here. "We will start with the limps I like it when they can't ran away anymore and Sherlock you know how I love to end my enemies you felt it already. Answer before I lose interest in your friend."

"Sherlock don't tell him anything." That was the first thing that came into his mind as he faced his torturer. That earned him a punch into his face exactly where the last torturer hit him two hundred years before still not healed. It had knocked him to the ground and the sickening noise as his shoulder joint was pulled out followed by the pain brought his attention back to Vlad. "Oh someone has a nice voice." John hadn't notice his screaming.

"Vlad please stop I can't help you. There is no way for you to get an immortal army." Vlad ignores Sherlock and lifts up Johns shirt. His back lays open and Vlad pulled out a knife.

"I think this one will get a mark." John's skin was slit open and he bites his lips to stop his voice. The first came far to unexpected then to stop it but not anymore. After the sixth slice he tastes blood and after the ninth he stops counting. Sherlock pleading shouts was all John could hear and Vlad start to pull out the finger out of their joints, letting them stand up in wired ankles.

"Vlad I don't know how I became immortal, I'm like this as long as I remember. I was always like this. I have no childhood memories, my body doesn't age. I don't change and this is since the day I woke up thousands of years ago. Believe me, please." John had listened to that and was surprised how few thoughts he had thought about the whole immortal thing. He hadn't known about Sherlock lack of memories.

"You don't know how, you live for countless years and you don't know how." Apparently that was the first time Sherlock had told him anything. Vlad let go of John and walks over to Sherlock who was still hold back from the guard. John tries to get up but doesn't get further then kneeling.

* * *

Sherlock shakes his head glad that Vlad's attention changed direction away from John who doesn't look too good with the blood running down from his lips where he had bite down. "No, I don't know."

Vlad looks like he wants to continue but Sherlock finally feels the grip of the guard loose, just a bit but enough to give him an opportunity to flee. He hadn't thought about running away for years. He had no reason to but John was here, John came back after he had send him away.

With a sudden movement Sherlock pulled his arms free, let the guard follow him and give him a head-butt. Before Vlad could react John had followed Sherlock's example and kicked Vlad into his knees from behind. The man's leg gave up and Sherlock knocked him out with his fist only. Vlad fell but hit John on the way down. His friend fell onto his hurt arm and another scream escape him.

"John." Sherlock lifts the limp arms from Vlad away from John who opens his eyes. "Hey." Sherlock smiled a bit as John tries to smile at him. "Come on we will get out of here and I bring you to HOPE."

It was a good thing that no one suspected anything after the scream escape inside the room. Everyone was fare to used to it. John was heavy holding on to his shoulder. Sherlock had pulled his good arm over it. In one of the rooms he found two cloaks to pull over John and himself.

Sherlock had found many escape routes over the years now he would use them. They escape the castle without getting attention. John was quiet at his side as he pointed into the direction his vehicle was waiting.

* * *

Johns mind was filled with pain but he keeps quiet. He had found Sherlock and was glad he was alright. It looks as if he had been a prisoner Vlad's for many years without trying to flee. He let Sherlock carry him to HOPE and while they walk the collar of his cloak and shirt moves. The chain of the dog tags was still there. Sherlock had sent him away but not the thing they had.

Suddenly John understands what this feeling was that he feels for Sherlock. Love.

It is love and he feels sad that he didn't recognize it earlier, telling a story how few his experiment in this area has. He had relationship and one night stands but he didn't love them. Sherlock was different. Something connects them and John had fallen in love for the first time in his life.

"John open your eyes we found HOPE, I want you to go home and don't come back here Vlad is angry and I have seen him do thing you don't want to know. I will leave the county too. So don't look for me here and I´m sorry for sending you away the last time, please come back to me as soon as you feeling alright again." John nods and let the door close, he sees Sherlock turn around and leave; he presses the home button and loses concussion.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

The time machine arrived after eight hours being away and the missing agent doesn't climb out of it the second the engine stops. Never a good sign. Greg walks over to the door and opens it from the outside. The look on his mechanics face told him everything.

"Miss Donavan call an ambulance." Mycroft's voice cut through the fear filled silence.

Greg checks John´s pulse and noted the arm he was holding in a strange ankle. Also the finger on his right hand look wrong. Careful, not to hurt his friend he touches him at his not injured shoulder. "John, can you here me." But there was no answer coming.

The paramedic appear two minutes later, push Greg away and pull John out of the capsule. Greg and Mycroft follow them to the hospital. As John disappears behind the door they were left in the waiting area.

"Why him?" Greg was talking with closed eyes and with his head against the wall. Yes he had ask before but never got a satisfaction answer.

"Because John and Sherlock belong to each other." Surprised to get an answer Greg looked over at his boss. He was tired. The third visit in a hospital in under a week. The plague checkup was a security measure but still two visits are more than it should.

"Maybe someone could travel with him." Mycroft shakes his head.

"No, you know that the machine can only carry one and I don't want to worry about another agent, one is enough." Greg was angry at Mycroft and leaves him alone in the waiting area before he can say something he will regret later and is getting a coffee, the worst coffee he ever had.

* * *

 _AN: Next chapter: A visitor in the darkest hour of the night_


	15. A visitor in the darkest hour of the nig

**Chapter 15: A visitor in the darkest hour of the night**

 _'Present, London – 2010 Wednesday'_

John woke up to the first beautiful rays of light in the morning. The smell of disinfection and hospital hits his nose next. His head needed a few seconds to catch up but the memories of Sherlock still wearing his tags and asking him to come back to him couldn't be erased by something simple as a concussion.

His heart beats fast as he remembers the moment he understood that he had fallen in love with the immortal. All the bad things that had happen on this day vanish by the love John was feeling.

John's day dreaming about Sherlock was rudely interrupted by a nurse checking on him and to find John awake. She called his doctor and the next half an hour was filled with test and questions. After the doctor left John tries to relax back into the pillow. He was at the military hospital again and the doctor was trained in treating agents. Rarely in this country but it happens. The boss must have taken care of most of the paper work.

* * *

Speaking of the devil, a knock on the door revealed a tired looking Mycroft Holmes. John set up a bit. "Good morning sir."

"Good morning agent. I talked to your doctor, he wants to keep you here until tomorrow and I agree with him." John nods he hadn't thought Mycroft would get him out earlier. "I also would like to know what happened on the last mission."

John looked down at his fingers. They were back in place but slightly swollen. Tipping will be a bit difficult for one or two days.

"Of course sir." John feels light since he had woken up. A very good feeling. "I Interviewed a few villager, they stopped talking with me every time I came close to the topic immortal, vampire or Sherlock. I infiltrate the castle by getting access to the servant's entry and searched the dungeon. I didn't come far after questioning one of the prisoners I was discovered and brought upstairs to meet Vlad. I ask him about the target and he let Sherlock bring by a guard. It ends with Vlad using me to get Sherlock to talk. He wanted information from him and how to get immortal. Sherlock couldn't give him the answers because he doesn't know them ether. Vlad was distracted and we used the change to knock them down and escape." He wouldn't tell Mycroft about his thoughts or feelings; they are private or better not work related.

"You seem alright as far as I can judge. Relax a bit and recover. The next mission will be Friday maybe first Monday." John would go Friday but he hadn't any points on his side today he had to wait. Mycroft leaves and John closes his eyes for a while, sleeping was the best for an exhausted body and mind to get better.

* * *

A quiet knock on the door pulled John out of his sleep. He hadn't dreamed of anything specific but the dream was filled with the sound the metal chain with the dog tags makes while wearing around his neck.

The door opens and a worried looking Molly enters. "Oh god, sorry John, did I wake you?" John shakes his head and offered with his hand the visitor chair.

"Don't worry I can sleep later, I have to stay until Thursday, at least. Plenty of time to sleep." He winked at her still over all happy that he hadn't lost Sherlock.

"I brought you your favorite tea so you have something to enjoy and not this hospital stuff." She gets a tea back and cups and serves the best tea John had in a while. Enjoying the taste of British tea he relaxes into his pillow. "You know for someone who was recently hurt you look far too relaxed."

Without opening his eyes John answered. "Sherlock doesn't hate me that is all that count and as soon as I can go on the next mission I can see him again."

"Oh." Molly paused. "John do you … how should I ask this-"

"I fell in love you can look at it in any direction but I love my charge, my immortal work obligation and I don't really know what to do." It was great to speak freely about it and John knows that he has a true friend in Molly; he can trust her that she doesn't tell it Mycroft who has to remove him from the mission because John is personal involved in it.

A smile appears on her face. "I knew it." John opens his eyes surprised by her outburst and looked at her questioning. "It was your way in talking about him at the breakfast and the need to give him something as you ask me to help you. I wasn't sure but I thought you didn't realize yourself so I didn't say it. It looks like you figured it out."

"Yes it took me a while and I have no idea how Sherlock is feeling but he still wears the tags so I can hope." After taking another sip from his tea he looked out of the window. "How this relationship should work I have no idea."

"You will find a way, it´s like watching a beautiful love story." That comment earned Molly a raised eyebrow. "It like one of the novels I read with a pair that just belongs to each other. Like soulmates. Completing the missing part through the other person."

"A bit romantic, I don't really know much about him, we have only met a few times and I think there should be more in a relationship then meeting a few times without knowing anything about each other. What when he isn't interested in me in that way. Hell I never had a working relationship I could be proud of." John sighs he hadn't thought about it probably only that he fell in love with this beautiful creature that could see his naked soul with his galactic eyes.

"Don't worry you have time you will figure it out. But you have to be more careful, you can´t come back from every mission hurt, do you understand?" John nods, he hadn't planned to do so, he needs to be fit for the missions so he could meet Sherlock.

Molly left after they had finished the tea, for John to rest but he gets his laptop out and opens the side of his blog.

* * *

 **Blog of J. H. Watson**

Dear reader,

I finally understand what the feeling is that I have every time I meet S. and it should have been easy to understand. Before you all tell me how ignorant I am for not recognizing this feeling I have to tell you something first.

I grew up in a house where this particular feeling was rarely seen. We don't have to talk about my father now, let just say without him it would have been better. My mum tried her best to fill the emptiness but it was impossible. Probably one of the reasons why I join the army at a young age. (Literally the first day I could sign the form legally).

Anyway the feeling I´m talking about is love. Yes I fell in love. It is unprofessional and not my normal reaction to another person I work with but I feel it and it is right. I hope S. will … I don't know, never was in this situation. The only thing that's important is that he doesn't hate me.

I might have hurt him the meeting before the last one by being late and mission something important to him. Still he wears the present I gave him, I saw it yesterday and it made a shitty day the best I had in a long time.

That's all for tonight.

* * *

The night nurse didn't look up from her magazine; the man who was wearing a long black coat disappears in the shadows. No one is supposed to know that he was here. He shouldn't, he knows the risk but he needed to see him.

Sherlock looked through the small window at John's door. He was sleeping and didn't wake as Sherlock opens the door without making noises. The immortal knows that he is weak, weak and inpatiened. Maybe a month or two before he can finally meet him in real. Many things will happen, changes unsuspected and surprising will fill their life but he needed to see him, breathe the same air for just a minute.

John was sleeping soundly in his bed, his injuries look worse than he remembers but who could blame him. Memories could corrupt and fade and five hundred years could even the memories of a genius fade a bit.

Sherlock didn't dare to sit down, the cheap plastic seats always cry out when someone sits down. It should be enough to just be there but his hand reaches out slowly and carefully to push one of John's hairs that had landed on his forehead away.

Suddenly, only a few centimeters away from John's skin stops a hand his movement by closing around his whisk. Mycroft Holmes stands behind him with a mix of worry, anger and sadness crossing his eyes. Without making a sound Sherlock follows Mycroft outside the room.

"You can't do this, what when he wakes up. He is under the influence form pain medication but still a trained soldier and agent. Don't risk it." Mycroft hadn't let go of Sherlock's arm and waits until the immortal had found his grip in reality again.

"Sorry." Defeated Sherlock free himself from Mycroft, hating that he needed the boys help to remind him to wait. The boy that had grown up and become this impressive man. Without another word Sherlock left the hospital, if he had looked back to John he could have changed his mind again. He needs him, more than the air he breaths and more than the everything else that life or death could offer him.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010 Thursday'_

John wakes up and smiles he had dreamed about Sherlock visiting him but it was only a dream. After breakfast he looks up his blog and find surprisingly a comment from his (probably only) reader: Violinist_NumberB

 _Comment by Violinist_NumberB:_

 _Dear J. , you don't have to be ashamed or try to justify your slow understanding of the feeling love. Love is something that is growing and there are people out there that had a good family life and never understand this feeling._

 _It took me very long to even let this feeling inside my heart. I can only say I have lost many people over the years, friends that will never come back, I always knew that not all of them would make it until we would go separate ways but it always hurt more than I can tell._

 _Your S. could need a bit more time to understand you connection but don't give up, you found love and that's the most important thing. Don't let something or someone take this feeling from you._

 _I always enjoy hearing from you._

 _Your faithful reader_

John was surprised by this comment it sounded a bit like he was talking to a fellow soldier, the user is probably one, by his talk about losing friend before they part, maybe from one of this special unites, the ones that have lost. But he doesn't feel comfortable to ask the man about it, maybe later.

* * *

The visit of Mrs. Hudson was a huge surprise and she brought him scones after John had complained about the hospital food the saving potion of nutrition he needs. Also her talking about the neighbors, her tenant and the rude cabby let him enjoy her stay a bit more.

As she gets up to leave after nearly talking two hours strade she had a serious look in her eyes. "Listen John Watson, this was the last time I will visit you in a hospital. Do you understand? No more staying here or getting hurt. Or you will get to know the not so friendly side of me." John understood, no more getting hurt, not that any of this was planned.

"I won't do it again, I promise Mrs. Hudson." And he means it.

* * *

An hour later Greg enters with his doctor. "Pal, you are good to go." The `good to go` was another check up by his doctor followed by a list of thinks he had to do and avoid in the next days. As they could leave finally it was already evening, in the car Greg hadn't started the engine and John looked questioning at his friend.

"Why are you doing it?"

"Do what Greg?" John had a vague idea but couldn't be sure.

"Why do you do this job? You get hurt, tortured, end up in dangers situation. You are all alone. No one can ever come and rescue you if something gets wrong."

Only a week ago John wouldn't have answered this question without asking himself the same question, knowing an honest answer. Today he could say it without hesitate. "It's the only way to meet him."

Mycroft's words make suddenly much more sense, the connection between them, the belonging. It could always only be the two of them. Without another word Greg starts the engine and enters the traffic. John sat silently in the passenger seat and looks out of the window.

* * *

After letting John hop out Greg drives a different road then the one that would bring him home. Between huge and posh looking houses He finds the one he is looking for.

Greg rang the bell and only a minute later the door is opened by Mycroft Holmes. "Good evening Mr. Lestrade. What can I do for you?"

Greg sighs. "I'm here to apologize for my behavior and questioning you decisions."

A soft smile appears on Mycroft's face as if he knew something the rest of the world is unaware of. "What changed your option about my way in operation this mission?" Suddenly he steps back and offers his flat. "Care to tell me during a drink?"

Surprise about the offer but not unwanted Greg follows his boss into the living room, not sure what the night is offering the door closes behind the two men.

* * *

 _AN: Chapter 16: India is the other way!_  
 _This is a very easy one to get. ^^_


	16. India is the other way!

**Chapter 16: India is the other way!**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John looked up at his bosses face. "No sir, thank you for the offering but I don't require another day off." Expecting this answer Mycroft let him pass to the changing area where Molly was already waiting for him.

"Morning John. No day off for you?" John shakes his head.

"No, I would prefer to work and meet Sherlock again." Her smile was probably the best he could get in return.

"Mr. Holmes informed us that there is the possibility that we get the day of, what would lead to a long weekend. But I don't mind, you know I love my job, I think you pissed off Donavan again."

A humorless laugh escape John. "I don't think she would suddenly love me."

"Remember as we joked a bit about Greg and the boss? They came in together this morning." While John fights with the strange west he looked over to Greg who was busy with some engine. "He wears the same clothes as yesterday when he picked me up from the hospital."

Molly's eye brown lifts as she checks their colleagues clothes. Greg must have felt them watching him because he lifts his eyes from the engine. Both nod at him like they would greet him in the morning.

Ready for his mission John looked down at his clothes and stops every comment he feels on the tip of his tough. "I would prefer when we could change your hair color but the color of your skin would give you away anyway." Molly pulls at his hair. "But I decided early in the production to match your natural color with the clothing color." Another smile and he was pushed back into the main area of the room.

"Mr. Watson your mission today will lead you to Palos de la Frontera, close to the city of Huelva, Portuguese." Without a break Mycroft continues, he had given up on John´s historical knowledge, Not that he had much time to research any possible destinations. "There are documents that connect Sherlock with Juan de la Cosa, the owner and captain of the ship Santa Maria. It belongs to the Portuguese discovery of the sea route to India, of that tells you something."

"Yes Sir, 1492 Christopher Columbus starts his voyage to America." Proud of his agent Mycroft gives John a few documents.

"These documents place Sherlock at the port as some kind of organization position working for de la Cosa. But we can't be sure he traveled with his ... let's call it business partner or if he stayed. The passenger list isn't complete."

John looked of the long list from people who joint this expedition. Sherlock's name was on it but not in the other document that show the passenger list of the three ships, Santa Maria, Niña and Pinta.

"You mission, find out if he travels with Columbus or not." Mycroft takes the documents back.

"Yes sir." John gets ready and gets an unhappy Look from Donavan, before he leaves.

* * *

 _'~1492 AD, Huelva, Spain'_

John exits HOPE and was hit by the heat. At least 25 degrees different from London. The Portuguese heat was different from the mild to cold British weather with its rain and cloudy days.

Sherlock had to be at the port and finding it wasn't difficult. The giant mast of the ships were a dead giveaway. The houses were built out of bright colors stones. John enjoys his walk through the town. His muscles were still sore from his unfortunate meeting with Vlad but that was okay. Mycroft let him go; thinking about his boss let him lead to the reason Greg was with him. He had to ask.

The port was busy and every one seems to have their own jobs. Finding Sherlock under all this people could be difficult but John spotted him after a few minutes. His size was closer to a modern men and his head was above everyone else's, the thick mop of curls was another sign die the agent to find his target.

John came from behind and tip on his friends shoulder. "Hey Sherlock."

Sherlock turns and greets him with a huge smile. "John. Coming to say good bye?" Sherlock points at the ship behind him. "Or would you like to join me? It will be an exciting journey, they might even rediscover the continent I visit once with Leif."

"That means you are joining the expedition?" Sherlock looked surprised at John.

"Of course I do, Europa had me long enough. Maybe we will build up some colonies over there or maybe I will join the native people, you know me I always find a way to survive. Juan, my friend, he owns one of the ships and Christopher was lucky enough to get it.'

Christopher? "You mean Columbus, right?" Sherlock nods.

"Yes him, do you know him?" John shakes his head; no he doesn't know him, just his name like every child on this planet. "Nice guy got himself a bit support after a long and hard way. No one wanted to help him. Now he is sailing under the flag of the kingdom of Castle."

"Sounds ... determined." Sherlock notice the change in John's mode imminently.

"What's wrong, did I say something to offend you?" John meets Sherlock's eyes after he parted them from the beautiful ships. What should he do?

When Sherlock leaves the continent there was no guarantee that they would meet soon in his timeline. Maybe it was egoistic but John doesn't want to let Sherlock alone for a long time. It will be a day or better a weekend for John but who knows how many centuries could pass until Sherlock would be in a place with records and evidence.

Sherlock was still waiting for an answer and John sees the shining metal from the dog tags chain, making his decision, He wouldn't say a single word about his feelings but he could at least try to reason the man in staying. "Could you imagine to stay, here I mean."

"Why should I?" Sherlock had worked together with these men around him for a long time, John had to bring up a good reason.

"When you go over there it will pass a long time until we meet again." Close enough to the truth.

Sherlock steps closer to John and lifts his hand. The one with the still broken finger. "Long for me you mean, because I can't really see the effect of time having you." John takes his hand back.

"Yes for you and if you don't care when we meet again then leave with this ships. They will bring you over the ocean to land that won't get any big events for a long time. It's your time and I won't see any difference but you will." Sherlock watches John as he had spoken. There was a hidden fear in his words, fear of him as if it could hurt him. Suddenly realizing that it is true it would hurt, Sherlock takes Johns hand again. "I promise you, I will not go onto this ship." When it means to see John again he would pass on the opportunity to find a bit peace and quiet.

"Thank you, so now I have only to think about an excuse or a good lie I can tell my boss." A humorless smile was offered and Sherlock didn't get the meaning of John's last words.

"What do you mean?" John realizing who he is talking to stops with his mouth open.

"Sherlock listen I … I can't tell you. You have to understand, you are a genius, you will figure it out sooner than later anyway but I can't tell you it could prevent the next meeting." Sherlock felt the desperation in John´s words.

"Is okay John, I understand. I will handle it as a little puzzle for me to think about it." With a wink he returns to his notes for the journey. John would leave soon, he promised to stay but that doesn't mean he could leave without finishing his work. He feels John´s hand on his shoulder with a whispered ´good bye´, looking forward to the next meeting.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John enters the locker-room after he got changed and had his much needed shower, he had sweet enough for the rest of the year. Greg was getting dressed as well after finishing his work on some spare parts for HOPE. "Hey Greg, I have to ask, don't judge I got it from Molly and I couldn't forget about it."

Greg looked up from his shirt bottoms. "You want to know why I stayed overnight at Mycroft´s house, right?" John nods. "I had to apologize for my behavior the day before and he invited me in for drink to talk about it, it got late and he offered me his guest room, end of it."

That was more information than John could hope for. "I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, just wanted to ask but everything is good between you too, right?" John was a bit worried, okay he was unconsciousness but he hadn't notice any behavior from Greg that would need to be apologizes for.

"It was something I hadn't said because I didn't see the whole picture, after I got more information Mycroft´s orders made more sense. I had to apologize, simple. And yes we are good."

"That calls for a beer. Would you like to go out, I know it´s early but we have Friday." John takes his stuff as does Greg.

"You buy the first round, for gossiping like a school girl." Greg smiled at him and they leave together the building.

Outside, John´s phone rings and he sees surprised Mrs. Hudson´s name on the display. He stops Greg and answered the call. "Good afternoon Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh John, can you come over. I´m really worried about my tenant but I don't know who else to call." She sounded stressed, worried and at the end of her strength.

"Yes of course Mrs. Hudson, I will be over in no time." After a look at Greg he continues in a clamer voice. "I will also bring one of my collegues." A quiet sob came over the phone. "Don't worry Mrs. Hudson everything will be alright." John ends the call and waves the first cab that passes down. Both men get in. "Baker Street 221, please hurry."

* * *

 _AN: Next week will be a bit more difficult to guess, good luck._  
 _Chapter 17: The one behind the words_


	17. The one behind the words

**Chapter 17: The one behind the words**

 _'Present, London – 2010 -_ _Friday afternoon '_

John was worried, not only about the tenant but also about Mrs. Hudson. She didn't sound good over the phone. Greg next to him feels the nervous energy and stays quiet. He wanted to ask his friend what happened but he doesn't think John knows much more than the sentence he had said after the call. John knows next to nothing about this tenant not even his name. It's a man, John had seen his shadow once, he plays the violin, that's all.

The cab stops in front of the door to number 221. John pays the driver and leaves with Greg the car and Mrs. Hudson opens the door. She hugs John and after he introduces her to Greg she hugs him as well.

"Thanks for coming, would you to mind going up there and have a look." Her hands were shaking lightly and she had dark rings under her eyes.

"First tell us what happen." John and Greg lead her to her flat and place her in a kitchen chair. Greg stayed with her while John makes tea for them; he was often enough in this kitchen to know where to find everything.

As the tea was finished she had calmed down a bit, the familiar noises of making tea and the aroma in the air let her take a deep breath. The cup was placed in front of her as she starts to talk. "He came home Thursday morning around five; I was already awake, couldn't sleep because of my bad hip. He had left the house around the evening the day before. Told me he wanted to visit someone. Anyway the whole day was nothing then silence up there and this is never a good sign. He always makes noises. With his music or his experiment, shooting his wall or other noises I don't want to know about it." She makes a short break, takes a sip of his tea and locks eyes with John for a second, making sure they were still listening. "In the morning it had started with breaking dishes, I heard plates or cups flying at the wall. After that a more dump noise came from up there, could be books. Next were the furniture. I wanted to check up on him but I was afraid. Would you please have a look, maybe he needs help. I told you he needs sometimes someone."

Greg and John look at each other. "Yes, of course Mrs. Hudson, one thing before we go up. What's his name." She handed over the key.

"William, his name is William Holmes."

* * *

Sherlock was sitting with his back against the bedroom door he had used all strength he had left to push over the sofa, he doesn't even know why. He loves this sofa and he would lie down on right now. But he can't, he is in his bedroom, after a break down, a mental break down.

He had nearly destroyed everything through his reckless behavior. Without Mycroft he had touched John, he could have wake up and everything would be lost. John can't see him before the last mission.

John was hurt and it was his fault. It was always his. He had chosen John as a child or had John chosen him in the Stone Age? There were still so many question unanswered but that doesn't concern Sherlock right now. He has to focus on the here and now and he should start tiding up before Mrs. Hudson sees the mess he made in the living room and kitchen.

A knock on the front door and the turning of a key in a lock woke Sherlock out of his trance. Someone was coming, more than one, three to be precise.

"Mr. Holmes?" That was John's voice. "Your landlady was worried about you and let us in. Is everything alright?" John was coming. "We are coming in now." Sherlock stands up and climbs out of the window on the fire escape, hides at the wall from the house and closes the window from the outside.

* * *

John and Greg step into the flat, first thought was that a bomb had exploded. Books and papers lay everywhere in the ground, a pile of what seems were ones the containment of the kitchen cupboards was around the kitchen table. A sofa was knocked upside down. The wall had a few holes that looked suspicious like bullet holes. The only thing that looked untouched was a beautiful violin on the windowsill.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Hudson whispers with her hand over her mouth.

Both men search the place, John´s agent instinct that had slept for a while we're awake and ready, but the flat was empty. After they had searched the whole flat and made sure that William Holmes wasn't hurt and hiding in the bath tub or the wardrobe Mrs. Hudson send them out. She told them later that she had left a message for him in his violin. John and Greg stayed for dinner and she made them a delicious Shepard Pie, the best they ever had.

"Mrs. Hudson don't hesitate to call, I don't care if it is in the middle of the night. Call and I will be there." He was worried about the elderly lady that had a special place in his heart.

"And if you can't reach him during his shift, call me." Greg gives her a card with his number on it. It made her cry again and hug both men before she let them go home. Both don't feel like going out anymore and say their goodbye.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010 -_ _Saturday '_

The promised pub visit followed at the next evening, John called Greg and they meet inside. Greg beets John and had the first round already ordered as he enters. "Hey Greg, don't start without me." John winked at him and takes the offered beer.

"What did you do till now?" Greg was curious. John had sounded a bit sleepy in the phone and he had the shorter way to the location.

"Nothing, really sleeping and staying in bed. Then staying on the sofa with breakfast around noon and a few old Bond movies. I try to rest as much as possible, Sherlock notice that there is nearly no time passing for me. He is right but after last week I thought a bit rest would do me well." Greg places his half emptied glass back on the table.

"Will he find out about the time traveling?" The older man questioned.

"I don't think the image of it was invented yet. The idea of time travel has first to be born in the minds of the people before Sherlock can understand it." The empty feeling of missing Sherlock was back since the morning.

"Maybe your lover will create the idea." Greg started to tease again.

"He is not my Lover, at least now. You could tell me about your lover." To John´s amusement Greg blushed a bit.

"He is not my lover." And very quietly. "Not now at least." John had heard it but didn't comment on it. Having a crush on your boss is unprofessional, the same way like falling in love with you target.

"Our life had become complicated."

"To that I drink." They signaled the barkeeper that they want another round.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010 -_ _Sunday '_

Nothing worth mentioning happened in any of their live. John rested most of the day after sleeping until noon. Greg had a hangover and stays in bed too. Molly finished her latest collection. Mr. Holmes had offered her a position in a different department after this assignment, recognizing her talent. Mycroft looked over reports, prepare for the mission in the next week and looks over his assistants report on Sherlock, that didn't sound promising. Mrs. Hudson listens for her tenant but he stays quiet and Donavan and Anderson meet while his wife ja gone.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010 –_ _Monday evening '_

Work was over for the day, but today was something special, Greg's birthday and they all were surprised as Mycroft granulated him. Before John went to his mission (London 1584 AD) they promised a visit in the pub to celebrate. Greg had no defense against John and Molly so he went along but Mycroft had to come too, because it is his fault that everyone knows it.

They meet around seven, John wrote his report for today's mission, Greg checked over HOPE, Molly tidied up John's clothes and prepare the one for the next days. Mycroft does whatever he does. Donavan and Anderson told them they were already planned, they left early.

The whole evening was great, especially after Mycroft starts to lose his tie. Molly had bad tolerance for alcohol and was soon bubbling about bottoms from different time periods with some poor guy on the bar until John got her back to their table. Far too early the voice of responsibility (namely Greg, with support from Mycroft) called it a night. John takes Molly home in a cub, fare less drunken then she was, Greg takes another cub and Mycroft was collected by his assistant in a company car.

* * *

"Good evening sir, I have your appointment for tomorrow ready for you." His assistant Anthea greats him with an open laptop ready for him. Mycroft nods his thanks and overlooks tomorrows plan.

"Move the Prime Minister an hour earlier and the dinner with the consultant for the new department at six thirty."

"Already happened." She had moved the appointment while he was talking. She was fixed in her phone to change everything while he concentrates in the newest mission reports. He had a few from other agents on different missions but the one he was interested in was the mission in London with William Shakespeare.

Mycroft was a bit jealous about it. John Watson was able to meet all this people and visit counties that no longer exist, people long death and culture nearly forgotten.

* * *

 _'~1584 AD, London, Great Britain'_

 _John arrives near the Thames; he could hide HOPE without a problem and follows the road to the pub he is looking for. Mycroft had shown him something that would be called a police report; Sherlock and Shakespeare were thrown out of their favorite pub. Or will be in a few days, so this was the best place to find him. The theory is that Sherlock wrote the pieces for Shakespeare. It wouldn't surprise John, Sherlock was brilliant with words. A great mind like his, if he uses to make something like Hamlet there is no surprise in the fact that today it is still one of the most famous things ever written._

 _It was early afternoon and the pub was already good visit. He found William Shakespeare first, the man, easily recognized, was drunken and you could say he was dancing on a table. Sherlock was in a corner of the room between the noises and the alcohol was he sitting on a table covered with papers._

 _"Busy?" John sits down with a beer and smiled brightly at the stressed looking Sherlock._

 _"John? I haven't notice you." Trying to finished his thought. "Wait a second I have to finish that." John waits and drinks his beer, it tastes like dirty water but he hopes for the best. Sherlock finish his page and looks up at John._

 _"Hello." John suspects that he hadn't really notice him until now._

 _"What are you writing?" John points at the paper he had finished a minute ago._

 _"Not sure about the title but it's a story about a young man and woman who fall in love with each other but both of their family's hate each other. So a connection between the two of them can never happen. Haven't decided for an ending." Romeo and Juliette, John smiled, yes Sherlock was the author of these pieces._

 _"Why are you so stressed out?" He takes another sip and decided to stop it is not worth it._

 _"I will leave town soon and I have still two pieces to finish, this one and another. I can't leave without then finished. It wouldn't be right." John won't ask where he is going, after staying for him in Europa it wouldn't be right to change Sherlock's plans again. Not when he is so exciting about it._

 _"Will you publish them?" John picks up one of the papers, the writing was hart to read but familiar words float into his head. His grandfather used to read Shakespeare to him, he didn't understand it then but as he read them again in college he could feel the power behind his words, Sherlock´s words._

 _"I will give it to him." He pointed at the drunken William who was talking with a load voice to everyone who wants to listen. "He doesn't look like much but he has a great talent, it might not be writing but acting. He is the perfect person to play the role of the author. I taught him to sign, so he will be able to do at least that. I it saddening me how many people are not able to get an education, to see behind what they know." Sherlock notice that his words and thoughts have traveled fare away from the topic. "Sorry, didn't want to bore you."_

 _"I will never be boring to listen to you." John could hit himself, why was he talking light a fool in love … oh right he is._

 _But he was gifted with a relaxed smile what payed of his foolish words. "He promised me to wait a few years until he will publish them, one piece at the time. He will make them in great plays and I might watch one in the future. Not sure how successful they will become but I hope for the best, only my name and face have to stay hidden. I have learned from my mistakes, I stay hidden." He looks over at William again. "At least some people give me the opportunity to get my words out without asking too much question."_

 _"What would you like to be?" John couldn't imagine what an immortal would dream of after countless year of living different life's._

 _Sherlock looked out of the window, his eyes where seeing something invisible for John, something far away. "I want to be a teacher, like I always wanted to. I want to use my knowledge to help them think, to question the world around them and go beyond. But being a teacher brings responsibility that I can't always provide." John wasn't sure what Sherlock means with this. "Sometimes I have to leave a place, I always have to leave after sometime or they would notice that I don't age. A teacher´s work requires more than give them knowledge. You have to teach them to use it in the right way and watch them growing up." With a sad look at Shakespeare. "I can't be that all the time. I have to leave them alone and won't be able to come back."_

 _"Sherlock you forget something very important. Trust. You have to trust your pupils to grow up to become great and wise and whatever your lessons taught them to be. You have to trust that what you are doing is enough to show them the right way." John takes Sherlock´s hand. "Yes there could be some that would need a bit more guiding but you can't hold all of their hands forever. You have to let them go and trust them."_

 _Sherlock´s losy finger on John´s hand tight, both men smile at each other. "You probably right. Might use the knowledge by my next stop, the ship leaves in twenty days to – "_

 _"Stop don't tell me, I want to be surprised." John interrupted and Sherlock nods._

 _"What for two love birds are sitting here." William Shakespeare has lost his audition and turns back to the person he knows. John and Sherlock let go of each other's hand._

 _"Hey Bill." Sherlock´s voice get a bit soft, he probably follows this man for a long time. He had chosen him AND trusted him enough that he will respect Sherlock´s wishes. "Sher, who is your friend?_

 _"John, this is William Shakespeare, Bill meet John, old friend of mine. We go way back." John shakes `Bill´s´ hand and was surprised by the easiness the man sat down beside them. "I your audience gone?"_

 _"Sadly yes, but there will be more in a few minutes, time for the workers to hit the pub." William grimed expectedly. "How is your writing? Still not finished scribbling down every single idea form your head. You know I will take what you give me. You don't have to hurry like that. You can also come back later or are you not planning on coming back to me, old friend."_

 _"The scribbling, as you refer to my work will bring you the attention and the success you are seeking in your chosen carrier of acting." After a second thought Sherlock continues. "No Bill, I wont come back, I was long enough in this city, I need a change and so do you." Both man look at each other in friendship, sad that they would go separate ways but glad they had the opportunity to have it in the first place._

 _"Is your friend going with you on that boat." William was talking with Sherlock but checking up John from head to toe._

 _"No, I have to leave again, just wanted to check on Sherlock here and make sure he doesn't need help." John beets Sherlock in answering that, knowing that he could never travel with Sherlock he had to go back._

 _Sherlock accepted this answer and didn't stop John as he was leaving. "Good bye John, come and visit me soon." John was hugged and he felt the relaxed stature of Sherlock´s body pressed against his own. "Japan, I´m going to Japan. Just so you know the direction." Sherlock let go of him and John left._

 _John was happy Sherlock told him. Making sure they would be meeting soon again._

* * *

A small smile appears on Mycroft's face. Small enough that someone who didn't know him well would not notice it. The assistant looked up from her every present phone. "Is there something amusing in Mr. Watson report?"

"Not really but I might tell him one day that I can read between the lines and notice when he tries to get my attention away from a certain point." Mycroft closes the laptop and puts it in the seat next to him.

"I don't see the reasons for the reports in the first place." She had now her whole attention in this conversation, the phone was abdomen in her lab.

"This mission, the time traveling has only one reason." After a raised eye brown from her. "Alright two reasons."

"Glad to know that keeping history in place has such a high priority." Something in her phone gets her attention.

"I think I will visit our immortal. Find out why his kitchen and living room had to suffer Friday." That worried him, more than the fact that John Watson was the landlady´s first choice to call.

"That won't be necessary sir, he is already there." She gives him her phone with video footage from Mycroft's home. Sherlock was picking his lock. "No early night for me then." Mycroft sighs.

"I hadn't thought he would use your family name, sir." Anthea takes her phone back.

"He uses the name from my little brother." Anthea´s head flies up, she had never heard of a little brother. "Don't worry, you didn't miss it. He is … he died a few days after his birth, heart failure." He hadn't thought about his little brother in a long time. He was a child himself as his brother was born, weak and sick form the first day on. His mother let him hold the little creature that he was supposed to protect, like his parents had told him too. But what could a seven year old do when this little being was breathing so hart and his little heart couldn't work probably. When this little being had no chance to survive and all they could do was suffer together. He was there the day his brother did his last breath, little William left the world as he had entered it, quiet and innocent.

Mycroft's thought came back into the car, Anthea was watching him while he had thought about his long dead little brother. He hadn't thought about it as he found out, he was far too distracted with the mission and keeping John Watson alive, Sherlock away as it appears that the immortal was walking amounts them the whole time. He might even ask Sherlock why he did it, use his brother's name. They arrive at his house. "Good night Anthea, I might introduce to the team sooner or later, their might be situation where your presents could be benefits."

"Good night sir, I let the phone on, in case of an emergency regarding Sherlock." He nods and get out. She was without a doubt the perfect assistant.

* * *

Mycroft enters his house and was greeted by a fire in the fire place nearly burned down but it still was filling the room with its warmth. On the sofa in the dying light of the fire was Sherlock, he was not sleeping only staring into the fire. "Good evening Sherlock, I see you found the scotch. Hope it was to your satisfaction." Mycroft didn't want to sound sarcastic but he couldn't stop it.

Slowly Sherlock´s eyes move to meet Mycroft´s. He looked more than tired. "Hi Mycroft, how was your evening with John." Mycroft signs.

"It was a pleasant change to my daily routine. But it was not about John, Greg Lestrade´s birthday was celebrated and I had to go with them because I ´spilled his secret´ as he said. Would you mind telling me why you are here?"

"I´m here because …. because I can't go home. Mrs. Hudson could decide to call John again and I don't want to stay the whole night on the fire stairs again." That sounded like a good reason.

"Can I ask you something else?" He waited but Sherlock doesn't stop him. "Why did you chose this name?"

"None of your business." Sherlock grumbled.

"It is when you use my baby brother´s name." Sherlock didn't answer. "Are you drunk?" Sherlock definitive sounded drunk but he had never heard that the immortal would use substance like that. Not that the man in front of him looked much put together. More like a blow of wind would knock him from his feet. Not necessary in this case, he laid already on the sofa.

"I'm not drunk." Sherlock looked like he would get sick the next moment. Mycroft waits, his visitor looked like he wants to talk about something. "I don't know how it feels … to have a brother or a family."

That surprises Mycroft. He had never thought about it. With an eternity of life times already lived he hadn't thought that Sherlock wanted a brother. Looking down on the immortal that looked young in his own way. With a bit imagination Mycroft could pretend that his own little brother would lay here on this sofa, maybe crushed after a long day at work, he could have come to visit his brother and was too tired to drive home on his own. While Mycroft was searching for prints of his baby brother in Sherlock the man himself fell asleep.

Mycroft gets up, gets a blanket and covered the sleeping being on the sofa. Careful not to disturbed the sleep he cares through the dark curls. "You can keep the name, little brother." He leaves the room and went to his own bed.

* * *

 _AN:Chapter 18: The dragon ask the monk for help,_  
 _Yeah where will we go next time?_


	18. The dragon that ask the monk for help

**Chapter 18: The dragon that ask the monk for help**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John wakes up with a nagging feeling in his head. A thought or dream, he can't put a name on it, was born while he had slept. Without remembering he hopes it will appear again in his mind when he is not trying to think about it.

For once it was an uneventful morning, he really hopes his next mission will lead him to Japan. Sherlock had told him that he was heading there. John hadn't had time to research probably but what he finds out was that the whole country was separated in different dominion, war was a daily thing and the country has the most skilled fighter in all of humans history. The Samurai, warriors who did nothing else than train to fight, protect their Lord and getting better in what they are doing.

John really hopes he will visit Sherlock there next; he would like to see one of the famous Samurai maybe Sherlock is one. He enters the office and first thing he notice is the young woman next to Mycroft. She holds her phone in her hands focus on it but still talking and listening to what the boss tells her.

In the changing area he meets Molly who has the worst hangover in her Life, according to her at least. "You could have stayed home." John offered her. "Or you can ask to go home after I left. I'm sure Mycroft will understand. Who is the woman next to him?"

"His assistant, Anthea. Anyway you are all working too and you have drunken much more than me. That's really not fair." John won't tell her that he could handle much more and that it's all training. "And I don't trust you to dress probably by yourself." Molly got his clothes out and he couldn't be happier about it.

"Japan." He whispers.

"That's right, a first one for you. How did you know?" Surprised about her question he looked over to Mycroft who was still busy with his assistant.

"Sherlock told me but don't tell Mycroft, he doesn't have to know." Smiling, probably because she was let in a secret again Molly helped him dress. John had to say he would have done it wrong. Dressed and ready he walks over to Mycroft who was finished talking to his assistant.

"Your mission today will lead you to Japan, only two years after your last meeting with the target. I would like you to find out how deep he is involved in the political games between the clans." John thought he was finished but he felt Mycroft's look keep him in place. "I also recommend a more professional relationship with the target." John swallowed. "Good luck, Mr. Watson."

John didn't comment on this suggestion and leaves in HOPE for his mission but he had felt the looks of everyone in this room on him.

* * *

 _'~1586 AD, Japan'_

The weather was great, sun was shining, birds sing their songs and beautiful cherry blossom fly with the wind. It has to be spring and John asks himself why he hadn't thought about visiting Japan before. He never had a mission in this country and somehow vacation was off limit for him over years. He could do this ... sometime in the future. He sighs whenever that will happen.

Finding the temple where Sherlock had to be was really easy, someone had places signs to lead visitor the way. The temples name is Risshaku-ji or Yama-dera, Mountain temple, it earned his name. The whole building complex was destroyed and rebuild forty years ago from some monk called Enkai, apparently very famous.

John enters the temple area, his clothing was matching the ones other visitors but his blond hair was like a neon sign above his head. Eyes follow him and John tries to walk like he wouldn't notices it and belongs here.

He found one very young looking monk and decided just to ask, it was most times easier to find Sherlock like that. Because even when he tries to stay invisible he let behind an unforgettable image, one burned into the back of your eyes.

"Excuse me mister monk, I'm looking for a friend of mine. Not sure under what name he is here, he has many but he is tall and has black curls, thin ... Sherlock, is his name." The monk looked like John would speak a complete different language, his Japanese could be a bit rusted but he had hoped it would work better. A picture would be good now but how should he explain the quality of the paper the photo is printed on.

The monk seems to have made a decision he pointed behind him and signaled John to follow him. John was lead into the inner part of the temple, the rooms where open to the outside large sliding door made out of paper were open and in many rooms where pilgrim and monks praying. There were also rooms filled with paper rolls we're monks we're quietly reading. In the other side was a garden, beautiful and empty at the same time. Has to be a Buddhism thing, John thinks. Inside the garden was a small pavilion. In this pavilion was Sherlock and another man. The monk showed John to wait at the corner of the stone garden.

The other man was getting up after the monk spoke with Sherlock. He bowed and now John could see that he was carrying a sword. Sherlock also bowed a bit deeper. The man left through a different exit and the monk showed him to Sherlock.

"Hadn't thought I would meet you so soon again. Two years no long time for us." Sherlock welcomes him and offered him a seat on a cushion and tea. "Have a seat; tell me what leads you in this country?"

John takes the first sip, it was a strange taste, it should be green tea but it didn't taste like anything he had before. "Just here to visit, you told me your next destination." John looked behind him where the other man had disappeared.

"His name is Date Masamune, known as Dakuganryuu, or in your language One-Eyed-Dragon of Oushu. He lives close by in Yonezawa castle." Sherlock sounded as if he expected John to suddenly know who he is talking about. "I see."

"What do you see?" It seem like he was suddenly in some kind of exam or challenge.

"You haven't been here long, you didn't pass the border or talked to anyone to find this place. You would have known who the man was I talked to if you had spent the time it would take you to travel inside this country."

John stays silent, what else could he do.

"You have sometimes very specific knowledge and lack in other areas that would be impossible to not know when you live here. Where are you when you are not here?" Sherlock keeps his eyes neutral but John could see that he had thought about it for a long time.

"As a monk you have time to thing, different from other people who have to provide for their living, food, shelter and so on. I don't have to do this things, and let's face it meditation is not my thing, you come from further then a different country." Sherlock was fishing and John doesn't like it.

"I will put a stop to it now. I can't tell you, I won't tell you when you're guessing is right and it wouldn't change a thing. I'm sorry but you have to accept it or find your prove."

"Fine, I will figure it out and I will find your prove." A bit of an evil smile appears on his face, Sherlock had accepted a challenge. Suddenly he changes the topic. "He is nine-teen, Masamune, already leader of his clan and lord of the land you walking on. He is young, but has potential a bit cruel sometimes when you ask me but that can change. He came for a consultant and I give it to him, voluntary."

"Is it about the country or war related topics." John knows with his open question he could be reacted like he does to Sherlock´s question his origin related.

"No, it was a question regarding life and death, I would call it. He comes often, we talk, drink tea and have a conversation as far as possible away from the destruction and blood he sees daily." After a second Sherlock continues. "He ask me once if the flowers in my country have the same color as in this. I could tell him I was in many and many flowers had different colors. He tells me I am a good teacher, a teacher of life

"That sounds good, you have someone to talk. Maybe he can become your friend." John empties his tea, it didn't taste better with the last sip.

"John I think I will stay for a while, I can, one of the monks told me I could stay as long as I want I would be given shelter as long as I want. I saved half of the people by giving them a cure for an illness no longer deadly in other parts of the world."

It wasn't an answer on John´s comment but that was okay. "Then I will leave you to your not meditation and your tea." John gives him another smile before he leaves he had the answers he could put into his report, the whole questioning about his origin would be left out.

Shortly before he reaches HOPE the one thought that had grown in his dream came back. "Where is Sherlock? In John´s present, where does he live. He had met him once years ago in a museum but where did he go?

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Sherlock ... Where are you? The only thought that followed John until he closes the door to his home behind him. Where is he? He has to be somewhere but that could be everywhere. He was an immortal being, which lives between humans that die in a blink of an eye, at least out of his view.

He could be out there somewhere living under his name or a borrowed one. He could be his neighbor for all John knows. Does he know that John is out of this time? Will he tell him one day or is it in John in the presents to find him.

But how could he start to look for someone who lives a hidden life.

John takes a shower; maybe this will clear his thoughts. The war water was relaxing but it didn't change the fact that he had completely forgotten about the present Sherlock, who was the future one of his Sherlock. Now it is getting complicated. Was it a good idea to look for him in the first place or will he change the past and with this his future with or without Sherlock.

While writing his report John opens his internet browser.

Search: Sherlock

Result name meaning that sound all together rubbish and lot of offered words he could have meant.

Next John opens a new entry in his blog. Sherlock's word from long ago in a museum came back to him.

* * *

 **Blog of J. H. Watson**

I'm still looking for you, Sherlock. Here is my hand, take it. It all belongs to you.

I will wait for you as long as it takes us to find each other. Don't give up, you are not alone.

John

* * *

Short but exactly what was needed to say to make sure if Sherlock will ever read this he knows John is waiting for him. Happy with his work he uploaded it and finishes his report before getting ready for bed. He had no idea where he is heading tomorrow but it won't have such a short time between it. Sherlock plans to stay for a while. Who knows where and when they will meet again.

* * *

 _AN: next chapter could be really easy to get._  
 _Chapter 19: Another vanished creature._


	19. Another vanished creature

**Chapter 19: Another vanished creature**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John looked at the copy of a very old book. He has to were special cloths so his skin doesn't destroy the already damaged pages.

The book was some kind of science report in the dodo, a bird long extinct, it couldn't fly and all John knows about it was that it was mankind's fault that the bird disappears.

"The author Benjamin Henry was working with an assistant named Sherlock Cappella, he is mentioned at the end of the book once as the artist behind the drawings." John goes through the pages and found one of the drawings, the bird was kind of ugly but he could see Sherlock behind the lines.

"What's the mission, sir?" Before Mycroft could answer the door opens after a soft knock. Anthea, for a change not completely focused in her phone came in.

"There has been an emergency Sir." She walks closer and whispers something into his ears. John tries to keep his distance to respect his privacy. Mycroft's eyes gave nearly nothing away but the short flicker was enough to tell everyone in the room that it really was an emergency.

"Anthea, tell them I'm on my way, they have not to approach him. Mr. Watson find out why Sherlock is on this island in the first place, where he was before and so on. You know the how it works. Mr. Lestrade you are in charge while I'm gone. Let's go." Their boss leaves them alone before John had started. Molly and Greg came closer to John and stand next to him.

"Did you hear what she told him?" Greg asks the agent.

"No, not really only something about prison and a brother. Does he have a brother?"

Greg shakes his head. "Never heard of it. Anyway John you have to leave."

"You are right. I'm on my way." John gets into HOPE and presses the start bottom.

Unknown to Mycroft and Anthea someone of the team follows them. They are too busy sorting out the mess one of the time travel department responsibilities was making.

* * *

 _'~1690 AD, Mauritius'_

John was still thinking about Mycroft's sudden behavior change while he walks through the more rocky area of the island. He had landed close to a beach and John was searching for the campsite since twenty minutes. He hadn't a clue if Sherlock was really there but it was a good place to start his search. He feels a bit unprepared what when Mycroft had wanted to tell him something else before they were interrupted by Anthea, something important. He sighs. He has to trust his boss.

The campsite came in sight place and with it a few people, judging by the language English citizen. One man he recognize from the picture in the book.

"Sir Henry." John calls out and gets the man's attention. "Hello, I'm looking for Sherlock have you seen him?"

A bit confused about John´s open behavior and the unknown face, then decided to answer anyway. It could still be that it was someone from his team. He wasn't really good with faces and no English man will ever be rude. "He is out drawing again. You will find him when you are heading north."

"Thank you." John follows the direction he was given.

After walking a few hundred meters John found his immortal, only wearing trousers with a nude chest and back. Sherlock looked up from his position on the ground; he lays a finger on his lip to tell John to be quiet. John slowly approaches him and knees next to him. Through two rocks he could see a bird, not any bird a dodo and Sherlock was watching it. John sees a few started drawings.

The two men just sit there for a while watching the dodo eating, they were close, so close their arms touch lightly. John feels a spark shooting through his body. Being so close to Sherlock was wonderful, his heart rate was increasing and his tummy was filled with butterflies but it was the most beautiful feeling in the world.

After a while the dodo was walking away. Sherlock would have followed him but John was here and that was more important.

"You still are wearing it." John pointed at his chest. His dog tags were still there. "Does no one ask questions about it when you wear it openly."

"No one sees it. I'm alone when I'm walking around like that; the English people are always dressed. Don't worry no one will see it." Sherlock collects his papers and pencils. "And yes of course I still wearing it, you gave it to me so I will never be lonely again." John smiled but maybe today was the day they could talk about what happened in France.

"I was really surprised to see you wearing it as we meet in Vlad's castle. After you had sent me away the meeting before. I thought I had lost you that day. At least your trust and friendship."

Sherlock's mind travels far away. Probably to the times John was talking about. "You will never lose me. It was just the wrong day to appear. A day earlier or later and I wouldn't have reacted like I did. I'm sorry for pushing you away but sometimes it is to dark and I need a bit time to find myself again."

John nods he can understand what he is talking about, He had been at dark places before. "What are you doing here except the obvious." John changes the subject to let them both of the hock.

"You mean drawing the last of its kind?" John nods again. "Looking for another. It would be sad that this creature will vanish from the surface of the earth just because a few humans can't see that it is dangerous to mix species. They let the rats on this island and the dodo can't fly, his nest is unprotected on the ground." Sherlock gives one of the pictures to John; he recognizes it from the book. "This bird is the last, I searched the whole island." John looks at it. "This creature will die alone. If I had found another one, best of the opposite sex I would have tried to let them breed."

"Sorry to hear that. How long are you already on this island?" John gives the picture back to Sherlock.

"Shortly after I left the temple I heard about this... don't know how to call it ... journey from a few English scientist and I thought I could help safe the species. Sadly I was too late. Maybe 100 years in a Buddhism temple is not the best to get information about the world. But I have to say it was nice, since a long time a stay that I could enjoy." One hundred years, wow.

"Why die no one say something about your … not changing?"

"Remember I told you, I helped safe them and they let me stay and never questioned my appearance." John was happy that Sherlock had found a home over there. For a second John plays with the thought to just tell Sherlock where to find him but by the last meeting he had told Sherlock he had to find his own prove and evidence. How will that all end, is Sherlock in his time? When he already knows where to find him, why does he not visit him? Or did he never tell the past him about it. But who would he have known about the museum.

John sighs and returns back to Sherlock who was a bit like the bird they had watched a few minutes ago, the only one of his kind at least as far as John know.

Sherlock tried to safe the species that had never a chance to survive. "I have to go again."

"I know, you have your answers but can you stay just a bit longer, a few minutes, please." John gives him a small smile.

"Yes Sherlock, I will stay a bit longer."

* * *

In the end John stayed another hour with him, they didn't talk much just enjoyed the presence of the other person. As John had to go Sherlock brought him to the last corner where John told him that is far enough. He would love to kiss the man in front of him but He can't do that, not jet at least.

"I hope our next meeting will be soon." For you. John thought the last part, for him it will be tomorrow.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

The car stopped in front of the police department and Mycroft enters the building closely followed by his assistant.

At the front desk he speaks to a young police constable. "I'm here for my brother, William Holmes; he was arrested this morning because of intoxication and suspicion of drug use. I was told I can pick him up." The police officer looks in his computer files. "Yes, he is in the holding cell someone will bring you downstairs." A young woman takes them to the cells. A detective waits for them.

"Mr. Holmes?" Mycroft nods and shakes his offered hand. "Your brother was in the processions of illegal substance, he could hide them or throw them away before we arrested him, are you aware of his usage." Mycroft was concerned, after the night Sherlock had visit him drunk he had thought this was some kind of accident, a miscalculation on his side. But using illegal drugs was something else. First thing was getting Sherlock out of here.

"Yes sir and it is taken care about it already." With these words he got finally Sherlock's attention. And it was true Anthea had organized a surveillance team to keep an eye on him and Baker Street what also includes John and his activities.

"Then I will give him in your care." Sherlock gets up and leaves through the open door. They walk outside silently and get back into the car.

* * *

Sally had followed her boss, she knew nearly nothing about him and he knew everything about them. She was in the hall as they talked to the desk guy. A brother? William Holmes? Never heard of it and she works for him and the department for a long time.

She will have to do a bit of research to find out more about this brother who has apparently problems with the law.

* * *

Anthea was in her phone and Sherlock looked out of the window, Mycroft wasn't sure what to do next. As they arrive at Baker Street it is nearly noon. Mrs. Hudson was out and Sherlock runs up the stairs and before Mycroft reaches the door he hears the door in his room close and a key turned.

Sherlock locked himself away in his room. A bit childish for an immortal. Mycroft knocks in the door. "If you need to talk I'm here."

"Go away Mycroft." Mycroft sighs and turns around.

"You know where to find me." He leaves the flat and returns to the waiting car.

* * *

 _AN:Next week we will have ... Chapter 20: Sherlock the pirate_


	20. Sherlock the pirate

**Chapter 20: Sherlock the pirate**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

The first thing John did in the morning was checking up on his blog. Sherlock could have answered it. But there was no message, no comment on his entry. Disappointed at himself for having hope only to get it crushed the next moment.

John ignores his heart, telling it to shut up and gets ready for work. He still has no idea when the best idea was to tell Sherlock that he fell in love with him.

At the office he felt a different vibe, as of something was going on and he has no clue about it. Molly for example was far too happy for a normal day and her statement that she has special clothes for him doesn't cover the brightness of her mood.

"Pirates." John says as he looks into the mirror. There was no chance to get that wrong, but a bit disappointed John notice that he was no Captain, more an ordinary sailor.

"Looks good on you, much better than the Japanese thing." Molly's eyes get dangerous small. "I mean the clothes were brilliant but you don't have the look for it." Molly walked away as Greg sighs.

"That was a close one. You were the one that told me never speak about her clothes in a bad way." John comments.

"Didn't think before I opened my mouth. But I need to talk to you." John gets all his attention back to Greg, away from the coming mission. "Do you have time to go for a drink with me after work?" That sounds important.

"Yes, of course." Greg nods his thanks and gives John a knife.

"You will walk under blood thirsty pirates. You are allowed to defend yourself but don't kill anyone. Who knows who's ancestor it is."

"Okay no killing."

Mr. Holmes seem distracted, John had notice that he checked his phone every few minutes. "Ready sir." John stops in front of him to get his head back in the game he doesn't want to run into danger just because his boss was distracted.

"Good morning Mr. Watson." Mycroft gives him an old wanted poster. John looked down on the drawing. There was a bit of resembling but without the context it could have taken him a minute.

"Sherlock is a wanted pirate?" His boss nods and gets him the second item. A port log book from a place called New Providence. Sherlock signature was on the paper.

"He is traveling together with Benjamin Hornigold and Edward Thatch, better known as Blackbeard." Oh yes this name told him something, nothing good. "We know of his stay at the port through his sign. Benjamin Hornigold and Edward Thatch will soon go different ways. Hornigold dies three years later together with his whole crew. Blackbeard is more successful."

The drawing in his hand, didn't really look like Sherlock, except his eyes and they look haunted.

"You mission, find out why Sherlock is with them and why. Good luck

* * *

 _'~1717 AD, Caribbean'_

John arrives at the late evening, the port was still busy and the pubs are full. Best guess where to find Sherlock was in one of the pubs with his companions. The first three pubs are crowed but no immortal to see. In the fourth he ask a huge and very smelly man. The man turned around, a long black beard swings with the movement. "What do you want small man." His breath was worse than the smell of his body.

"I'm looking for a friend, his name is Sherlock." If it wouldn't be seen as a sign of weakness John would step a few steps back, away from the smell.

"Oh our navigator has a friend?" John hadn't notice that their conversation wasn't private anymore as the whole room starts to laugh.

"Yes, he has and it would be nice of you to show me where he is." That got only more laughter from the men in the pub.

"Since when am I know as nice?" Blackbeard, who else could it be nearly shouts into his ear.

Before John could counter another man appears. "Ed, how about you go back to your game."

Blackbeard wasn't happy about it but nods. "You can deal with his guy, Ben." That has to be the other man Sherlock was sailing with.

"Sherlock is on the ship, the big one, you won't miss it. And when you find him, tell him he could come in and have a drink with us." John thanked the man; he saved him from the brutal Blackbeard.

Outside John takes a deep breath that didn't smell like something was rotting; now it was fish. He found the ship easily and Sherlock was sitting at the front, John called and Sherlock waved him up.

The ship was amazing; it only needed a good wash once in a while. John sits down next to Sherlock, looking over the water. "Never pictured you as a pirate." Sherlock laughs out.

"You saw me as a Greek oracle is being a pirate really that surprising?" Sherlock questions and gives him his bottle. It tastes like nothing then alcohol.

"I'm not really thinking about your carrier when getting ready for the next mission." Sherlock reached out for the bottle and John gladly gives it back. "So why do you choose to be a pirate?"

"Simple, I needed a lift back to Europa and the Caribbean Sea is still closer then where I was before and I'm the best navigator they ever had. Pirates have a low standard and I didn't really have competition." John was not really happy with the answer.

"And all the killing and stealing is alright for you? Nothing against your way but there are better ways to use your abilities to get a lift." Surprised Sherlock looked at him.

"What's wrong when people kill each other. They will do it with or without me. Ben is nice and Ed ... You have to avoid him drunk."

"I notice that." John grumble, very worried about Sherlock attitude. Of course he was right but still not a way to look at a human life.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock ask suddenly. "He didn't hurt you?" Confused John shakes his head. He didn't care about other people live but John was different.

"I'm alright, don't worry, Ben as you call him helped me. He seems to be the only one that kept Ed in check. But I think I should avoid further interaction with him. Oh by the way Ben invited you for a drink."

"Thanks but I won't go." Sherlock takes another sip of his drink. He doesn't look drunk but that could also be because he is used to it.

"How are you?" Sherlock meet his eyes.

"A bit drunk right now, tired and I think you have to leave now and I will be lonely again."

"You didn't found a friend on this boat?" Sherlock shakes his head.

"I think I need a bit more...clean people around me. People with a bit of sense for the world. I found another ship that will sail over back to the old continent as they call it. I have to look what is happening in the world." Probably for the best to leave them behind.

As the door of the pub opened he felt Sherlock's hand on his lower back. "You have to leave." He whispers, John said his goodbye and leaves. Still worried about Sherlock, but he couldn't change it.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John was worried and couldn't concentrate on changing back into his normal clothes. "John what's talking you so long?

"Mhm ... Ah what?" Molly rolls her eyes and Greg was impatient. After Molly had heard that the two men go out she wanted to come along. John had nothing to say in that and Greg was okay with it.

"What's worrying you. You like that since you came back."

Mycroft left so John could speak openly to his friends. "I have a bad feeling about Sherlock he was in a horrible mood. First I thought it was like Rome and the fire but it was different. He said he was tired."

"That can mean anything don't worry you can't change it right now."

"You can ask him the next time." John nods both had good arguments.

Due to the early hour they decided that a Cafe was a better place. And Molly could have her piece of cake. The Café they choose was a bit away from work. Not that any other of their colleagues would walk in but you never know. Greg seems nervous and Molly tries her best to smoot the mood.

"Greg whatever you tell us. We won't laugh and we will offer you everything that will help you, right John."

"She is right you can tell us." Greg was still unsure but he had asked them so he has to go through with it and they were the only people he would call friends.

"Alright, I want to ask out Mycroft." He didn't look them into their eyes. His were fixed on something on the table. "Before you judge, I know its unappropriated to think of the boss in that way but he is special and I saw a side of him that was caring and full of hope for something."

John was the first who talked he can see Molly's romantic soul nearly explode, the same with him and Sherlock. "I guess you asking us for advice how to proceed best?" Greg nods.

"Greg that's great you will be very good for the boss." Only a bit surprised about the supported Greg finally looked up.

"What should I do?"

"Maybe not at work, I think he will want to separate work and private life." John says and Molly nods, thinking the same. "Maybe another visit at his home. He invited you in the last time too." John was already thinking of an excuse why Greg had to visit again.

"You know where he lives?" Molly asks amazed. „That's perfect, visit and asks him out or brings him something to drink. What do you think is he more the wine or beer type?" Greg held up his hand.

"One second not so fast." He takes a breathe. "I thought you don't like him that much?"

"I trust you judgement and you told me he shows you a different side, another then this cold persona." John offered.

"That right it's only the job that makes him act like this." Molly smiled.

"Back to my question, wine or beer."

* * *

John got a call in his way home. Greg had left them to prepare for his maybe date with Mycroft. He and Molly had left soon after. The callers ID shows Mrs. Hudson´s name. "Good afternoon Mrs. Hudson." John said after answering the call.

"Oh John I find out something horrible." She was not in imminently danger but worried. "My tenant, he … I found out he takes drugs occasionally and I´m not talking about the light stuff. What should I do? He is such a troubled boy."

"Mrs. Hudson, your tenant could be the nicest guy in the world but after taking drugs people change, please don't go near him when he has taken something." What drugs could it be? "When he takes some and need me call. I will come over tomorrow afternoon after work, maybe I can talk to him." John could listen to her breathing relax.

"Thank you John, you are the best." They end the call. John wonders what this tenant is alike. She really has to like him, more like a mother would treat her son than a landlady her tenant. But drug were always dangerous. He should get a few flyer for rehab-center, and AA meetings for drug addict and he could offer medical supervision if he doesn't want to go to a place like that. Good that it wasn't to late so he could go to some clinics and get the information. It will also get him distracted from his worry about Sherlock. He couldn't change the fact that his Sherlock was somewhere in the eighteen centuries and he was in the year 2010.

* * *

 _AN: A darker chapter will follow, sorry need to build up to something._  
 _Chapter 21: Under the mask_


	21. Behind the mask

**Chapter 21: Behind the mask**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

"Anthea, stratus report for the target." Mycroft was on his desk in his office. Until his team arrives would pass a few hours. For many people was it late for them was it early but since their immortal had started to show self-destructed behavior there was more work to do.

"A phone call was taken by Mrs. Hudson, she ask Mr. Watson for help. A meeting will take place this afternoon. Sherlock will most likely hide again but I can offer him your place again." The situation between the target, his landlady and our agent gets more and more worrisome.

"Any new developments regarding the substance abuse?"

"No sir, we couldn't find his dealer and Sherlock hadn't left the flat to get more." She was also worried but it was not her job to worry. She has to offer solution and organize the day for Mr. Holmes.

"Thank you Anthea, increase the surveillance stratus and I want a status report every hour. The meeting between the target and our agent can't take place right now." Sherlock had to stay alive until then.

"Yes, sir." Mycroft returns to his resent reports; he had to finish them before his time travel department starts his daily work.

* * *

Greg was the first one in the office. He prepares HOPE, regarding the missions plan for today's journey. The years between today and the time John is traveling getting closer to the present.

He had stayed up all night to figure out what to do for his date night with Mycroft. Greg would ask him after work. A good bottle of wine and a homemade dinner, he was a good cock. Sounds perfect. He has only to ask and then everything will be fine.

The door opens behind him, startled by the noise Greg turns. "Good morning, Gregory, you are early today. I thought I was the one without sleep and private life." Mycroft smiled a bit. Their mornings together and alone in the office were rare but precious. He never told John or Molly about these few minutes when it was only them.

"Good morning si... Mycroft." He was on first name bases when they were alone, probably with their colleagues too but he doesn't want to imply something.

"You look distracted, everything alright with the time machine?" Greg looks at HOPE and then back to his boss.

"Everything perfect. I ..." Courage Greg. "I want to ask you if you would like to have dinner with me. I would cook." He focus his bosses eyes and hopes to find no reaction, there was something new, a spark in Mycroft's eyes.

"It would be a pleasure, can I offer you my kitchen. You will find everything you need and it would be a good chance to use it." Surprised by the fast positive answer, as if he had expected it. Greg nods, Mycroft's kitchen was fine. "Perfect, we can continue our talk after work; it appears our coworker will arrive every minute." Another nod and Greg gets back to work smiling. While Mycroft takes his chair and prepares for today's mission.

* * *

John's night had been bad, very bad. After the Café with the destructed topic of Greg dating Mycroft were John's thoughts wandering back to the more pressing topic. His worry about Sherlock. John´s dream were filled with the pirate Sherlock and the Rome Sherlock who had started the fire, he had seen Sherlock friend of Jeanne d´Arc again. The hate that had filled his eyes mixed with the hopelessness of a man that is close to giving up. The second cup of coffee wasn't helping. He gets jumpy, what wasn't helping ether. Tired and filled with caffeine John gets ready for work, hoping that he will meet Sherlock at a better place, that the man he loves will be safe and maybe found someone.

Surprisingly John had never felt jealousy towards this people. They share their life with a short moment in the immortal ones. They were good for him and John had no right to step between them. He was only part of Sherlock's life a few minutes before he leaves him again. It wouldn't be fair of him to keep Sherlock for himself and curse him with more loneliness.

* * *

Mycroft was waiting for John and could read the sleepless night in the man who was currently changing his clothes. Miss Hooper was also noticing her colleagues condition but except offering to talk she didn't pressure him.

"Good morning agent." Mycroft starts to let the man as fast as possible to his mission. The only thing that could help, but he doubt it with this particular mission ahead. "You will visit the beautiful city of Paris. Shortly after the beheading of King Louis XVI of France."

"Beheading? You are talking about the France revolution, right." Mycroft nods finally there is something that could be called historical knowledge.

"1793, is the year. A document was found that listed Sherlock as the executioner of the king." The line between John's eyes gets deeper. Not approving Sherlock's line of profession. "Find out what his role in this revolution is and why he chooses to guillotine people."

* * *

 _'~1793 AD, Paris, France'_

The first thing that John notice was the mood of the city, clam but also like a boiling volcano. As if something had exploded after waiting too long and the silence afterwards. The revolution was for John something out of movies with flags and victory shouts and dances. With the picture this city was offering had it nothing in comment. The people look angry, poor and starving.

The noises from around the corner get John's attention away from a child that was far too thin. The child was quiet; it didn't have the strength to scream for food. This child was dying and John could do nothing to change it. He turns away to follow the noises and found a crowd, an angry mop of people cheering for something in the middle of the place.

A scaffold with a guillotine was towering over the crowd. The sharp looking blade was shining in the winter sun, deadly and precise.

On the platform was a man, wearing black clothes and a black mask. He was standing next to the execution devise, the executioner: Sherlock.

The noises increase as two men pull another man to the guillotine. The man was wearing clothing that had to be once bright and precious. Listening to the people around him was clear that it was some kind of royal that will face 'justice' in a few minutes.

John's attention was glued to Sherlock. He looked thin, like most of the people. He was thin before, now it looked just unhealthy. His eyes were hidden but there was nothing in his figure that would suggest regret for his doing.

The royals head was placed in the right spot, a basket under it. The top wooden piece was lowered and the head was secured. A sudden silent filled the place, an expecting silent, a crowd talking a breath.

Sherlock pulls on a rope and the blade slices through the neck without stopping. The head fell with a dumb noise into the basket and the people cheered. John will never forget the eyes of the royal. Killed just because he was born into it.

The crowd starts to separate, it looks like it was the last beheading for today. While the people walk away from the place blood was dripping on, was John walking towards.

Behind the scaffold was a building, Sherlock disappeared inside. John tries the door and finds it unlocked. Sherlock was in the first room without mask and changed in clothes similar to his. "Hello John." The voice was thin and lacked a soul. "I saw you between them."

"Who is 'them'?" John waits patiently, Sherlock hadn't turned jet.

"People, the citizen of Paris, humans."

"What's with me am I not a human?" Finally Sherlock turns and it breaks John´s heart. These weren't his love's eyes, this were soulless, bottomless pits.

"I don't know what you are. I only know you not like me and you are not like them ether." John let the answer stand in the room without a comment.

"Why are you doing this?" John holds his arm as Sherlock started to turn his back again. "Why are you the executioner?"

"Someone has to do it. I don't believe in kings and bloodlines. Everyone, every human has the same rights, no matter of born, royal or a mendicant. We just get rid of the people who think them better as other and use them, subdue them. These executions are necessary."

"You really believe that? That killing people is a solution for this." John couldn't believe Sherlock would think like that.

"Yes. No. I don't know. Someone has to do it." The arm, John was holding, shakes slightly. Sherlock had get himself in a situation he doesn't want to be.

"You said this before." John's voice was without understanding but filled with something that Sherlock sees as pity and he is no man that let someone pity him.

"Maybe you live in a better world. A better place, a perfect little world, I'm not. I have to fight for it." Sherlock pulls himself free and leaves. John was left behind. He had been worried about Sherlock all night, now he knows that something really was wrong and he needs to do something against. Or he might lose him.

* * *

As Sherlock returns to the room he had let John behind he found it empty. He had wasted the precious minutes he has with John by keeping him in distance but this was his only way not lose it completely. Sighing he wants to leave as Sherlock finds a piece of paper in the table. The paper was old and the back was writing on it, the front was clearly the first page of a bible. The letters were Strange but after a bit of thinking and rereading it he got the flow. It was a letter from John.

* * *

 _Dear Sherlock,_

 _I might not look like one but I am a human, like them and like YOU. You might feel out of place but you belong to them, like me or the man you just beheaded._

 _I would like to wish something from you, for me. I saw your eyes today. That are not the eyes of the man that tried to find another Dodo and the pirate is long gone. There is a long period of time between it but Sherlock tell me. When did you lose your light? I can't see it anymore in your eyes. They are not bright with excitement, friendship, love or proud. Not even anger or sadness shines in them. Where did you lose it and will you try to find it again._

 _I miss the light that shines in your eyes. It's like pure life and I think you lost it time after time as you continued your path and with every life you take it will take more of your soul._

 _I would prefer to find a bit of your soul left when I visit you the next time. Give your soul a bit rest. Leave and find something that is not crushing you with every breath you take._

 _Yours John_

* * *

Sherlock takes a breathe; he hadn't notice that he had stopped breathing. John had left again, his hand closes around the neckless he was still carrying. He was not angry with John, it's his fault that he had left. There was the promise of another meeting but would that be a good thing for him. The hope that John would come back again and again, it takes his mind every day that he could meet him again and this hope was crushed every night when he goes to bed.

Sherlock stared out of the window, sees the place where he kills people, sees the blood and without thinking he gets his coat and leaves. Leave this house and leaves the city. Heading north and hoping for a place where he will meet John again. John the only constant part of his live that wasn't disappearing or dying.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John was glad to leave the office; the early afternoon sun was welcoming him. He wasn't as worried as yesterday, today he has more information and did everything he could to push Sherlock away from it. Where that all will end was unknown.

Tired John walks up the few steps to Mrs. Hudson door. He would have another look upstairs, maybe he can talk to the tenant, he doesn't feel safe with the elderly lady alone with a drug addict.

"John, dear how was work." Mrs. Hudson closes her arms around him and pulls John into a hug. This motherly gesture was nearly enough to break him. He had written a letter to Sherlock. A letter that implied that John doesn't like the way Sherlock was living. Her hug let the feelings he had hid in the office came up again. "It's not your day ether? Come in we will have tea and you can tell me all about it." The sweet old lady, with her own problems takes his hand and led him into her kitchen. She makes tea and places a few biscuits on the table. While she was working John spilled out his whole week.

The falling in love, keeping it to himself because he wasn't sure if these feelings get requited, Sherlock's slipping into a dark place and his fear that he was lost. No time travel, Dodo or something remotely related to the France revolution or pirates was mentioned.

"I'm not ready to lose him, I will never be ready but not now. He ... He doesn't know how I feel. I have no idea what he is feeling." Mrs. Hudson takes his hand and strokes it with her thump.

"He feels the same, trust me and don't worry no place is dark enough to get lost in there forever when you have people that won't stop looking for you."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." John feels emotional exhausted. "Should we have a look upstairs, maybe I can talk to your tenant." She nods and leads him upstairs.

"I heard him earlier." She knocks at the door but no answer came. "We are coming in." She opens the door and John follows. The flat was a mess, not worse than last time but no improvement was seen. "He throw me out as I tried to clean a bit." The couldn't find the man so John let the flyer at the kitchen table that looked like the tenant would cook his own drugs.

* * *

John left and Sherlock climbs back inside through the window. He was glad that his hearing was good enough to notice when John was coming. He really needs to talk to Mrs. Hudson about her attempt to rune everything with her mother hen behaviour. She worries too much.

* * *

At the other side of the city was Sally Donavan was busy researching. She had hit a dead end by her web search and was now returning to paper, old newspaper from the area Mycroft and William Holmes were born.

She found the announcement about the birth of the two followed by the death of the child, because of an illness.

Smiling evilly she knew the boss wasn't perfect and with his sloppy attitude against John. Now she needs to find out who the man was that lived the life of Mycroft Holmes' brother.

* * *

 _AN: Chapter 22: Death under the Afghan-sun_


	22. Death under the Afghan-sun

**Chapter 22: Death under the Afghan-sun**

 _'Present, London – 2010 Saturday'_

Greg wasn't nervous, not one bit ... but he needed to ignore his shaking hands and the increased breathing. It was a long time since his last date and he wasn't serious like now for a long time.

Carrying a bag with the ingredients for his dinner menu, Greg knocks in the door. He was a few minutes early but he couldn't have stayed a minute longer at home. After Reading the recipe the third time and checking his clothes and hair for the tenth time Greg decided it was enough. He got his car keys and drives over to Mycroft's.

Mycroft dressed in something casual but still very stylish and complementing opens the door and takes the shopping bag from him. "Welcome Gregory, come in. I chose a good bottle for tonight." Mycroft smiles and leads the way inside his house. The last visit was only a few days before but today got the room a new meaning. "I hope the kitchen is to your satisfaction."

"I don't need much; the most important thing is the workspace." Greg unpacks the bag and Mycroft opens the wine, red, Greg's favorite.

Something Greg had learned in his last relationship was that talking and doing things together are more important than anything else. Greg let Mycroft do the chopping of the vegetables while he was working in the spicing for the meat and the sauce.

They work together and talk about everything and nothing, really. It was a conversation to get each other know. Mycroft emptied his first glass, Greg had only taken a sip, his hand busy with the meat as the call came.

Mycroft looked at the caller ID. "Excuse me I have to take this." Greg shakes his head he was just done with the meat and washing his hands. "Yes." Greg couldn't hear the words but it sounds like the female voice on the other end had a urgent topic to discuss. "I will get him. Don't interfere, I will handle it." Mycroft ends the call. "I´m sorry Gregory I have to pick up … my brother. He needs my help."

Greg could read the worry in Mycroft´s eyes but also sees the empty glass, no one should drive like this. "Don't worry but I will drive you, you are in no state to do it yourself. No discussion." He turns of the stove for the potatoes and takes his keys. "Are you coming?"

* * *

Mycroft know there was a risk but enters Greg´s car without hesitation. He needs to get Sherlock before something happened and Greg had never seen Sherlock in real, just pictures of portals from a long time ago. The address Anthea had sent him was in one of the more questionable parts of the city. Where else did someone find drugs? The addiction turned out to be a bigger problem, but Mycroft has only one solution for it and Sherlock won´t like it.

They stop in front of an abdomen building, Mycroft tells Greg to wait in the car with the excuse that his brother (it still sounds strange to call Sherlock his brother), when on drugs doesn't deal good with strangers. Not the best excuse in his carrier but he couldn't find another one remotely close to the truth.

The house was dirty and in need of repair. Mycroft walked down the hall and searched every room. As he couldn't find Sherlock on the ground floor he climbed up a staircase he wouldn't trust his life on it. In the last corner room on the right side was the immortal. Dirty, half a sleep and high as a kite was the man lying in his own filth. Careful not to startle the man Mycroft lays a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock stirred under the tough. "Sherlock, we need to leave. I will bring you to my house so you can sleep it off without worrying Mrs. Hudson." The answer he got was not understandable but it didn't sound like he wanted to stay. Mycroft takes off his coat and after sitting Sherlock up he wraps it around the thin man. The hood was covering the immortals curls and was hiding half of his face. This was all Mycroft could do to prevent Greg from finding out the real identity of his ´brother´.

Greg jumped out of the car as he caught eyes on Mycroft carrying the unconsciousness man and opens the door. Mycroft climbs with Sherlock on the back seat and Greg gets behind the wheel. "Where?" Greg asks, probably hoping for the name of a hospital but this could Mycroft not do.

"My house, please. He only needs to sleep it off." Not even close to the truth because Mycroft suspects Sherlock to have an overdose or close to it. The drive was silent and Mycroft strokes Sherlock´s head absently thinking of a plan to solve this problem. Greg was watching the road to bring them home and Sherlock was feeling close to nothing a release after all the suffering, the pain the longing and the desperate wish to hold his love.

At Mycroft´s house Greg opens the doors, first the door of the car, then the front door and the door to the little guest room for Sherlock to sleep it off. Greg let them alone while Mycroft get Sherlock into the bathroom. The filthy close weren't as filthy as Mycroft thought but still nothing he wants him to wear. With a wet cloth Mycroft makes a quick wipe over the immortals body and gets him into a fresh pajama.

With a sad look on his face he leaves Sherlock alone in his bed, sleeping as far as Mycroft can tell. In the kitchen was Greg waiting for him. "I´m sorry that was not the date I have wished for." He takes the offered glass of wine from Greg.

"Is your brother alright?" Greg asks, he is not sorry about the way the date is going. It is more important to be there for someone then a perfect dinner.

"He …" Mycroft was thinking how to explain it, he doesn't understand it full himself. "He has a hard time. Sh … William is deeply in love with someone he can´t meet and he had waited a long time. I guess he had reached his limit but turning to drugs is nothing that will help him. It is just another problem he has to face."

"Sorry to hear that, I hope he will meet his loved one very soon." Mycroft´s stomach grumbles; he had worked the whole day and had only a sandwich for lunch. Greg smiled. "if you want we still can make dinner, the food is ready we only have to cock it." Mycroft couldn't say no to this smile and together they finish cooking and eat at to worktop bar as if it was any other normal day.

Greg had wanted to stay but decided it was better to let the two brothers alone, it won´t be a nice morning for ether of them. He said his goodbye after they finished the washing up. It was a relaxing task and both man enjoyed the working together.

"Call me if you need help with your brother or just call me when you want to talk or need some distraction." Greg didn't say they would see each other again on Monday; many things can happen in one day.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010 Sunday'_

A bird´s song was waking him up. For a long time Sherlock just stayed there and listened with closed eyes. A beautiful song, like the one he had listened to on the day he met John the first time. The day his endless life begun to change and probably the day John started to safe him from himself. His life had been hollow and lonely, Sherlock had never been a part of the humans around him. They fear him, or worship him, ignore him or chase him away. Sometimes he finds places to stay awhile, but he had to hide who he really is, he can´t show his knowledge, his abilities or ideas grown by life experience over the years.

Slowly Sherlock´s thoughts return to John and how this man had changed his by his second visit as it became clear that John was not a normal human he had met but someone special, not like him and today he knows about the time travel, special and for him. Yes John Watson belongs to him and it was only a few days until they would share the first of many kisses and many more.

Still until this John would be his John it would take many more days. Days Sherlock would spend alone and lonely. Finally deciding he had slept enough Sherlock opens his eyes and looked around the room he had slept in. In was a nice room and he recognizes it as Mycroft´s guest room he had stayed before. It was also no dream, Mycroft´s voice. Sherlock had thought he had dreamed that the child came to get him.

Mycroft, was standing in the door with a glass of water and was not a child anymore. Sherlock misses the twelve year old a bit. He had been fascinated about the love he was feeling for John and had wished for something like this himself. Sherlock could see that he hadn't found it yet but there was something growing in him that neither he nor the person behind that feeling had understand yet.

"Good morning Sherlock, or should I say good afternoon. You slept a long time, probably because you nearly died from a drug overdose and your body needed time to recover." Mycroft held up his hand as Sherlock wanted to start arguing about the dying part. "I know you are immortal but honestly you should value your life a bit more or do you want to find out that something is able to kill you before you meet John in the presents." That shuts Sherlock up. "I will offer you something, you will listen and then you should consider your future and the possibility of one with John."

"I will listen." Sherlock says and waits for Mycroft to continue he had seen the look before and he knows the offer Mycroft is about to give him, will be nothing he will like but he had no change to denial it.

"There is a bed in a rehab center waiting for you, one month. I have Anthea send to your flat to get your things, violin, clothes, a few books. Everything you will need but you will leave now and get clean before I will let you to John. I won´t let you continue this self-destruction you practice right now." That really didn't sound like an offer but he sees Mycroft´s point, Sherlock had seen it as the man had told him that he risk meeting John again.

"I will go but they are not allowed to take it away." Sherlock pulled out something from under his pajama, Mycroft had seen it as he had changed the clothes. He knows what it is and by the look of it, it belonged to Sherlock since a long time. The imprint of the dog tags where nearly gone but it was clearly John´s. He must have given them to Sherlock a few days back.

"They won´t take it. You would never use them to take your own life." Not that it would work. But Mycroft didn't say the last part. The rules would be bending for Sherlock a bit but this was the good thing on being high in the government chain of comment. You could nearly get everything if you know the right people and Mycroft knows them all.

Mycroft gives Sherlock a few clothes and they get in the car together. He drives Sherlock up personally. He wouldn't trust someone else to do it. The three hour drive would give him the change to think about Sherlock, Greg, his work, John and everything else that was circling in his mind. Sherlock fell asleep after the first corner with his head resting against the window.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010 Monday'_

John was on his way to work as he got the message form Mrs. Hudson. She only wrote that her tenant was away to a rehab center to get clean and that he doesn't have to worry anymore. It took a small weight from John´s heart, at least she was safe again. Okay John doesn't know the tenant and every user of drugs reacts different but it was still a danger he doesn't want to take.

Molly greeted him at the door and leads him to the changing area. There it was waiting for him, a uniform of a soldier, he hadn't worn one in ages and even when it was from over 150 before it had something familiar on it that let John feel at home again. A uniform show the belonging to something bigger, a family.

Greg was also there but not really offering much information about the date with Mycroft on Saturday only that it was good but nothing happened. Mycroft on the other Hand wasn't there, he came in the last second and only offered a ´good morning´ before he took a folder from his desk.

"Mr. Watson I hope you could rest on the weekend the week will be as challenging as the last one." The folder changes hands and John looked on a long list of names, many names and birthdays of young men that got enlisted as soldiers in to a war. There was also one name very familiar to John. Sherlock´s with the last name Watson.

"He took my name." John was surprised, he couldn't really remember if he had told his last name to Sherlock but then came the tags back to his mind and he shut up to not incriminate himself for bringing something into the past. It also makes John happy; Sherlock uses his name and the feeling that grown out of this was beautiful. Sherlock was thinking of him.

"Yes Mr. Watson, Sherlock and the man above him on the list, Jack Watkins were under the first men that were shipped out to Afghanistan in the First Anglo-Afghan War of the British Empire. The two of them count to the many missing. They never made it home. The last confirmed appearance was on a battle field in 1839. We will send you out there to find out what happened. How he ended in that war as a soldier because he never took place in such a way and what he is planning after that. Many soldiers left their life in this war, be careful." With this last warning was John on his was in the hot dessert of Afghanistan and the reunion with a Sherlock that had pass the darkness that had surrounded his heard before.

* * *

 _'~1839 AD, Afghanistan'_

Jack was breathing heavily next to him. Sherlock was due to his immortality in better shape. His body was regenerate faster, he doesn't need food and water to function probably and the sun that was burning their skin was nothing compare to the heat of a boiling volcano. Anyway the sunburn on his face and hands were healing much faster as the ones of his friend. Sherlock was still not sure that it was a good idea to follow his friend into a war at the other end of a continent but he didn't want to be alone again. Jack keeps him right and when his friend decided to join the army and get ship over to Afghanistan then he would follow him, like always.

Their troop was moving east, they have to stay close together but Sherlock and Jack were more busy discussion the food they had given for breakfast. Sherlock had given most of it to Jack pretending that he couldn't eat it. "What they want to sell us as bred is just disgusting." Jack whispers. They had already a warning from their captain, they don't need another.

"I think they mix it with wood pieces or something. Can't explain the taste other than with that." Sherlock whispers back. Minding their surroundings.

"When did you try to eat wood?" Sherlock had to smile. He had tried it once upon a time as the village he was living in had lost most of its crops during a storm, it wasn't helping. The villager had to give up their home because of the destruction. Sherlock went into another direction. He didn't want to see the fate the villagers were facing. The village was somewhere in Europa but he couldn't point it to a specific country.

They changed the topic again. It was mostly about the food, the heat or the cold during the night. There was not much else to talk about it. Because they both avoided one thing. The reason why Sherlock was with Jack in this Godforsaken country.

Sherlock was sure he would find a way home. Someday at least but he couldn't say the same for his friend. He remembers the evening they two had met. Sherlock, just walking aimlessly through the street of London, looking for a place to stay. He wasn't sure why he had chosen this city again, it was just a place to be, that felt good. A door was open in front of him and someone throw someone else out of the house. The door closes and the young man was sitting up. For some reason he didn't stand up and walk away like other people that had been thrown out of a pub. Sherlock had stopped in his way and waits. The man turns around and looks at him, hidden between the shadows and he laughs. Laughs as if he had nothing to worry about, griming like an idiot.

"Hey pal, are you interested to have the night of your life?" Whatever this man could offer Sherlock doubt it could top his favourite moments, in a very long live. "My name is Jack by the way, want to join me?" For some reason Sherlock followed Jack. He had nothing better to do; he liked the man from the first moment, this smile and the laugh. And honestly what could he lose. The hours they would spend together are just a blink in Sherlock´s endless time on earth.

Turns out the few hours became a week, then a month, followed by the first year and had reached his five year mark shortly before they left the country. Sherlock would never change the decision he took that night to follow this crazy young man into the night live of London.

First he had thought Jack would take him to another pub but he let Sherlock wait for a few minutes in front of a small building and came back out with a back. Together they climb up the stairs to Big Ben and sat by a small window, above London with a bottle of cheap wine and a docent apples. Sherlock had laughed as Jack got the apples out. He told him that he liked to spend his nights up here. He was a trainee to become the next guardian of the big old clock. It was fun times but they ended as Jack joint the army and for some reason Sherlock signed up too. As he had the papers in front of him he was thinking of John. John who had also been in the military, the pencil was scribbling without hesitation the name ´Sherlock Watson´ on the paper.

Jack had asked him once why he had joint and followed him but Sherlock hadn't known how to answer. The simple truth was that he was afraid to be alone again. It had been hart, to find a way back to get people into his heart again. He will lose them, all of them. They will grow old and die. Jack was the first real friend he had and he wanted to enjoy it as long as possible before his cruel reality caught up with him.

The soldiers settle for the night. They would have another long day of walking before they would reach they destination. Sherlock blends in. Act as if he would just fall asleep, standing, hungry and thirsty. Before the ´cold´ act had to start, claiming that he was freezing. He knows it is a lie, Jack know it is a lie but everyone else believes it. Sherlock had to be careful. There were far too many people out there that would love to know who he is the way he is.

Jack had find out Sherlock´s special condition, like he called it as they had both drunken too much and had ended in a fight with five very drunken sailors. For Sherlock´s luck they had only hurt him to the extent that was life threatening. His body healed and Jack question it. But not like he was a freak or something like that. No he was just interested. Sherlock hadn't told him everything, only that his body would survive many things. Not the immortal ever walking the earth part.

The night came and the one thing Sherlock was glad he came for appears. The night sky with millions of stars shining above them. Many of these nights Sherlock would skip sleeping and watch the stars. He loved them; they were beautiful and even when they had changed their position over his life time they were still the same. His constant companion.

A sudden noise of gun fire woke the men around him. Sherlock was standing already, he grab Jack and pulls him to the closes rock to get cover without looking for the others or what was happening. Just getting Jack out to there. He couldn't find the direction the attacker came from but their companions walked away from them, away from the cover and away from Sherlock and Jack. The bullets were flying through the air. People were screaming out in pain and gone silence. It didn't take long, after a few minutes the noises had stopped. No bullets, no people, no nothing. Just the night and the creature that were living in it. Sherlock´s breathing slowed down. They had survived and didn't have to hurt anyone.

A sharp intake of breath behind him let Sherlock turn around and all hope was gone. Jack was bleeding. A huge patch of red was covering most of his left shoulder. While Sherlock tries not to panic Jack starts to sink to the ground. Sherlock reaches out and leads his friend to the ground. Careful not to hurt him Sherlock exanimate the wound. The blood was covering the most and Sherlock needed a while to find the exact spot. Unfortunally the bullet had hit something very necessary to life. At least to Sherlock´s knowledge and Jack knows it. He can read it on the immortals face. "Let me guess, you have to eat that crappy bread alone tomorrow." Shocked by this words Sherlock looked up in pain filled eyes. "Please don't lie. Don't want to hear a lie as the last words in this life.

"No I won´t lie to you, never have." Sherlock covers the wound up and brings his friend in a more comfortable position. They sat together, like many nights before. Jack´s breathing got slower while the night continues.

"Would you do me a favour?" Jack asks.

"Yes, if it is in my power, I will do it." Sherlock thinks that Jack wanted to deliver a message not that a person, close enough for something like that came into his mind. Jack´s family was not the best example of human beings.

"Can you promise me to fight. To fight and find a place to live. Love, maybe a family, a home for you and the people you love. Don't want you to be lonely again. Because you were lonely as I found you. Don't want this to happen again." Surprised by this words and the weak hand that was suddenly holding onto his, Sherlock watches Jack´s honest eyes that told him that was the only thing the dying man wants him to do.

"Promise, I will find a home. Don't worry I´m not always alone." Sherlock feels the vibe in the air. Smiling sadly that John was on his way to find him again with a dying friend. "By the way the one friend I told you about. The one I don't get, who is coming back? He is on the way. You will have the opportunity to meet."

Jack was fighting a losing battle with the air getting into his body as after a few minutes John walked around the rock. Wearing the same uniform as them, only a bit more clean and without the blood. "Jack." Sherlock tights his grip around the hand he was holding. "Meet John Watson." Jack was nodding weakly at John who got over his shock very quickly. "John, this is Jack. Would you like to spend a few minutes with us?"

John didn't mind. He sat at the other side of the dying soldier without knowing the man he takes the other hand. Sherlock feels his friend relax as if John´s presence would clam him. But it could also be body turning off.

Sherlock had known that the chances to get back home again together were slim but he hadn't thought that Jack would die so early in this war. The sun was rising and slowly chases away the cold that had inheritage the dessert for a few hours. Jack smiles at his last sunrise. He had always loved to watch them from Big Ben. "I wish I could have seen it from our place one last time."

"Me too." Sherlock whispers and Jack closes his eyes for the last time. A long time John and Sherlock sat their together, watching the rising sun. Still holding onto Jack´s hand.

"Sherlock?" John says after a while. "Would you like me to help you with the grave?" It was an odd question. Normally people say they are sorry but not John. He offered Sherlock the only right thing. A helping hand to get his fallen friend to his eternal rest. Sherlock nods and together they dig as far as it was possible in the sand. Lay Jack´s body in it and buried under small rocks. The bury had taken more than an hour. A silent hour, none of them was talking while they were working.

"Thank you John." Sherlock offered the first words since they had started, now standing at his friends nameless grave.

John understood that he doesn't really mean the grave thing, more the whole being their thing. "You´re welcome."

The temperature was rising; Sherlock had decided where to go next but had to get another look at John before he left. John had written a letter the last time. He had told Sherlock to … yes what had he told him. Nothing he had to do only the one simple truth. That he would come and visit again.

With a sad smile he said his good bye to Jack Watkins, the man that had eaten apples above the city of London. "Good bye, Jack."

Sherlock turns east and begins to walk. John behind him, watching him leave would be too much so he was the one leaving. Sherlock could feel John´s eyes on him, again the man was understanding him more than ever.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John returned with mixed feelings, he was glad that Sherlock had found the will to connect to other people again and also that he had found a friend like this but again, this friend had died. Like everyone in Sherlock´s immortal life will die one day and let him behind.

John had ask Sherlock on his block to answer him when he is somewhere around but the more important question he should have ask was how it would be possible to live together. Or John would be just one of them. Someone who will let him behind the day he will die.

It was also not the first thing to find him but he needs a way to be immortal himself or find a way to make Sherlock mortal. One of this had to happen or neither of them will be happy in their life.

…if Sherlock want to spend the rest of his life with John.

* * *

 _AN: Chapter 23: A country opens it´s gate_ s


	23. A country opens its gate

**Chapter 23: A country opens its gates**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Greg was up early. First he had no idea what could have ended his night so suddenly but then he remembers. He had a dream. A dream from his not very successful date night with Mycroft and the drugged little brother. He was not a doctor or from the police but he can see when someone was more than a bit high. But Mycroft wouldn't let his brother suffer just to hide him, right? Maybe he had a whole hospital set up in the brother's room. Because it didn't look like it was the first time Mycroft had to care for his brother in this way.

Accepting that there would be no more sleep, Greg got ready for work. He will be the first one that gives him some time to sort through a few things. The sort of stuff that stays on the desk until the very last moment, like the bloody paper work.

* * *

Greg was really the first one, he was working quietly as the next one arrived. To his surprise it was Donavan, she looked nervous but also had her natural angry look on her face. Greg ignored her, the only thing he was happy about was that even Anderson had started to get in distance to her. She was a bit of poison for the team. No one question her qualifications but still.

Mycroft arrived shortly after and before Greg could make himself present Donavan walked over to their boss.

"Sir?" Mycroft looked up from his phone and papers and stopped his preparing for the next mission. "I want to know how it can be that the boss of such a delicate operation as our, has dark secrets and a lie in his vita. When the man himself always talks about this mission and how important it is to not get destructed." Mycroft's eyes got cold, Greg could feel the danger in the air. Something Donavan had to be immune.

"What do you want, Miss Donavan? Before you answer be warned." Her eyes got small not in fear but in disgust.

"I'm talking about you little brother. The one that died shortly after his birth but is now living in the center of London with a drug addiction." Mycroft's brother was dead? Then who was the man they picked up at Saturday? Mycroft was caring for him, like a brother.

"Miss Donavan, you are fired. This knowledge is far beyond your security level and if you try to make this knowledge public there will be a far worse fate waiting for you then unemployment." That reaction was somehow no surprise for Greg. He can see the emotions behind Mycroft doing and the strong will but apparently it was surprising for Donavan. She just gasps at him and stand frozen. The aim behind her attack was not understandable for Greg. But he didn't care enough to worry about her.

Mycroft turned his back to her and tips something in his phone. A minute later the security came and leads her out of the building. The angry fire in her eyes told him that they would get more of her, soon.

* * *

John was sitting in front of his laptop, he had thought about a new entry in his blog after the day they had on yesterday's mission. But no words he could think of would tell Sherlock what he was feeling and how sorry he was for Sherlock to lose another friend.

In the end John closed the lid and makes his way to work. At the entre he meets Molly who was late at least for her routine. She looked a bit shocked. "What happened?" John questioned.

"Sally was fired." Molly follows John inside while she talked about how she had seen the security escort her out of the building. They enter the office and both feel the icy mood cloud around the boss. Molly hurried to her place to get Johns clothes ready. John walks over to Greg who was very busy hiding.

"Why are you hiding?" Greg looked around John's body to confirm that Mycroft was busy with thinking with a cold look in his eyes.

"I was witness to the firing of Donavan and before you ask, I will not tell you the reason." John closes his mouth again. He really was nearly asking. "Alone the knowledge was enough to get her fired so I won't tell you."

"He doesn't know that you were here?" John pointed behind his back and Greg shakes his head. "You know he will find out." John was right and Greg knew it. But Greg would like to wait a little bit longer before he gets fired.

* * *

Mycroft stands up, John was dressed. His standing made them all crowd in the main room. "Like you all hear, most likely by Miss Hooper was Sally Donavan fired this morning. Reason was unethical behavior regarding a person of this team, spying on said person and collection knowledge above her security level." The room was silence; Greg looked as if he was getting sick the next moment. "That said, I won't tolerate any kind of this behavior from you, we will continue with our missions." Mycroft set down and held out a piece of paper for John who takes it. "Mr. Watson that it the employee list of a small trade shop in the port city of Nagasaki, Japan."

The paper shows many symbols; John couldn't read them never learned how. He was more the one that could speak a language rather then write. A note paper was next to a written name that has more simple signs. "That's Sherlock name." His Name was translated in the paper.

"Yes, this list contains everyone who was working in the city. Sherlock appeared to be something between a translator and a shop assistant." Mycroft takes the paper back. "1866 one year before Japan opens its gates, we can't be sure of his role in it. Find out what he is doing there, why he is working in this shop as a merchant and if he is using his position as translator for something." Sometimes John things that Mycroft isn't really interested in what Sherlock is doing. Or that he is looking for something different.

"Let's go to Nagasaki." John sounds positive because he had to. Who knows how Sherlock's mood was after the death of his friend. Greg gets HOPE ready and John starts to his newest journey into a country that is against every foreign.

* * *

 _'~1866 AD, Japan'_

John walked through the streets of Nagasaki. He is aware of the people staring at him. How their eyes follow him. The gaijin (the stranger), the children hide behind their parents and mothers hide their baby's inside. For the only place Japans where people from outside were allowed they act as if they had never seen someone like him.

Finding the store Sherlock wasn't to difficult. He asks a man for direction for the man from outside that works in a shop. The man he had asked was something like a police officer, at least he had asked for his papers. He thanked Mycroft silently for them. He didn't want to know what had happen to him without it.

Sherlock was working quietly behind the house. Sorting through piles of books as it seems. The air was heavy and most people have seeked the shelter their houses offer. With the open windows for the hope of a fresh brises from the sea. Sherlock seems fine with the midday heat.

The books he was sorting through came from the Netherlands, as far as John could make out from the boxes. They had to arrive with the last ship. John sits next to him. Not interrupting Sherlock's work. The man had probably notice him miles away. John was still not sure how he does it.

Sherlock gives him a book he was through with, without saying a word. It was a medical book; it appears to be about the treatment for broken bones. "It's my job to sort out what knowledge is allowed to be bought in this shop and doesn't conflict with the law." Finally Sherlock looked up at him with a tender smile. "Hello John."

"Hey Sherlock." Also smiling John offered the book back to him.

"It's amazing what can be seen as a disturbance of the life of Japanese people. There is so much knowledge out there and the Japanese government tries to stop this knowledge from getting into their country. Like this." Sherlock held out a bible. "Other religions are prohibited."

"How is it that you are allowed to see them?" John asks.

"The man I'm working with isn't interested in the things from outside Japans. He is just working in the shop his father had given to him. He told me to sort through the boxes the strangers are bringing."

"So you take the knowledge that he doesn't want to know about and stop it from coming into the country?" Sherlock nods.

"Yes, he isn't interested in something his government and the Empire don't approve in." Sherlock looked up into the endless blue sky. "You know, I really like this country. The last time I visit it I stayed for a really long time. The man I´m working with, Kenshin, he is actually one of the ancestors of the monks I lived with. I found his family history. It surprised my but also made me happy that there is still something left of the people that are long gone." Sherlock picks up the next book. "My abilities are very helpful for him and he likes to have me around. Most of the people just stare at me for being an outside. Not that I ever had a country I would call homeland." Sherlock doesn't look heartbroken like he saw him with Jeanne. But something was wrong with his attitut.

"How did you end here? After I met you the last time in the dessert." John clarifies. Maybe Sherlock will talk about Jack.

"I just walked away. Through the dessert, a jungle, over mountains until I reached the sea. Someone let me go on his boat and I could get back into this country, where I had found a bit of peace." I feel the change in the air, it won´t stay like that. There something, I can´t quite name jet. I won´t stay for the big change. I want to keep this country like it is in my memory. I already looking for a ship that will take me back to Europa. The Dutch captain was very for coming as I ask him." Still nothing about the lost or Jack. John wonders if the two men weren't quite that close as it appears and suddenly he doesn't want to know it. He wants to spend some time with Sherlock, without asking him out and minding the time. Only at his first missions he had to spend time with him. Now it was all rush.

"Would you like to walk with me a bit, maybe show me some parts of the city or your favorite food that is served at the streets?" Sherlock was surprised by this, already thinking John would leave. He takes John offered hand and gets up. Kenshin would survive a few minutes without him.

John followed Sherlock through the streets. Yes the people looked at them but they couldn't change it. They eat Dangos, sticky balls on a stick, very delicious. Sherlock showed him the port and the ship that he wants to take back to Europa in a few weeks. They found a quiet place under a tree and watched together as the sun was going down. They didn't talk much, just enjoying each other's company.

As the sun was down John felt bad about staying so long. He knows Mycroft and the others would worry about him. He sighs and offered his hand again for Sherlock to get up. He wants to bring him back to his store, the least he could do.

"See you the next time." John waves and Sherlock disappears inside the shop.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John sits in Mrs. Hudson kitchen. Her tea was warming him up, chasing the cold feelings away. She had called him and invited him for tea after work. He went without second thoughts about the tenant or the day he had let behind. He wouldn't think about it just now. Maybe tonight, when he was alone in his bed or at his desk. He could write something on his blog but even the one reader Violinist_NumberB wasn't there anymore. At least he hadn't wrote in some time.

Mrs. Hudson told John that he didn't have to worry anymore. Suddenly realizing that he hadn't listen to her John looked up from his tea. She smiled at him sadly. "Sorry Mrs. Hudson I was just …" No word could describe the state of your mind when its lost.

"Don't worry. I know you have a lot of things in your mind and I can take one of your worries away." He lifts an eye brown. What is she talking about? "My tenant, he is gone to a clink. A nice woman got a few of his things that he will need and told me his brother talked him into rehab. I´m glad he has someone else to look after him. Not only me. It would be really sad if he hadn't have someone who cares." John was glad that her tenant, William got help. It can only be a step into the right direction.

His thoughts return to Sherlock, who played an amazing act as far as John could tell. Relaxed, settled and appears happy. But that was all it was a mask. At least that is the first thought that came to John´s mind. The second thought was actually something Mrs. Hudson triggered. She said she needs sometimes more time to understand her feelings, just because he was a bit older and had so many of them already, it takes her longer to sort out the right one. Maybe that is what Sherlock was doing. Sorting out his feelings, still not ´getting´ what had happen as if his immortal brain had seen too much. Or it really was an act so John would belief Sherlock was happy as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Greg waited until everyone else was gone home for today. John had ask him if he wanted to join him by a visit at Mrs. Hudson, in the attempt to light his mood but he told his friend that he had something else to do. John understood and left shortly after Molly.

Greg walks over to Mycroft who collected the last of his things to leave for his other office. "Mycroft, I … have to tell you something. A confession if you like." Mycroft looked up surprised and put his things down again. Focusing 100 % on Greg and getting him his full attention.

"I´m listening." Mycroft offered as Greg didn't continued imminently.

Greg sighs and looks into Mycroft´s eyes, hoping they would get this cold look again. Wishing more for something he sees in John´s eyes when he is talking about Sherlock. "I did listen to your conversation with Donavon this morning. I heard what she accused you with and I´m sorry, I didn't want to spy. I was just there and she started with all this and I didn't want to hear it but I didn't want to be fired by you in your rage to protect yourself or him or both of you. I just …" Mycroft held up his hand to stop Greg´s rumbling. Empresses Greg shuts up and waits for the judgment.

"Gregory, I know you were there. Don't thing I wouldn't notice when I´m in the same room as my … as you. I trust you, you wouldn't use this information against me or this department." That was true, he would never try to hurt Mycroft and the eyes that were looking at him were warm. All Greg wanted.

"So the person Donavan was talking about was the one we picked up at Saturday, right?" Greg tested if he was allowed to ask question. Mycroft nods. "But this person is not your real brother."

"No he is not." Mycroft looked sad. "My brother died, the man we found in the drug dent is someone I met once as a child and only a few weeks before again. He is … I can´t tell because I don't know how or why but he is lonely, sad and desperate. He wishes for his lover to come and find him but he needs time. Time no one can jump over or hurry up. He wishes for a family and told me one night, in one of his more dark moods, that he wishes he had a brother. Somehow we ended with this arrangement and I feel alright with it. He apparently too, because he listens to his ´big brother´ and is now in rehab." Mycroft had stopped and it looks as if he waited for Greg to judge his actions.

"That's really nice of you and I think you are really helping him." Greg offered a smile and his hand so they could leave at least the building together. Mycroft would continue his word for the other departments and Greg could finally go home and catch up with his lack of sleep.

"It was the only thing I could give him."

* * *

 _AN:Next week we will have Chapter 24: The dark soul of Jack the Ripper._  
 _I guess everyone will know when this was. But at the end of this time travel there will be a big surprise for Sherlock and you of corse. So keep reading. ^^_


	24. The dark soul of Jack the Ripper

**Chapter 24: The dark soul of Jack the Ripper**

 _'January 1_ _st_ _1888 AD, London, Great Britain '_

London, his home, Jacks and maybe just a little his owns, Sherlock´s too. He hadn't called a place his home in a long time. The word was to pressures to use it every few year when he has to find a new ´home´. Home is for him more a feeling, the people are important not the city or the country.

Sherlock had made a promise and he would at least try and honor this promise, in the simplest form there is, by keeping it. He had promised his friend to find a home, a family, happiness. And were would be a better place than the city they had both lived in.

… Family, where can he find a family? He wasn't sure he could produce children, never really tried to but there are enough orphans that wait for a couple to adopt them. So he really only need to find a woman, who loves him and wants to spent her mortal live with him. How should that even work? Sherlock isn't even sure he should try but what else was there to do. This woman had to leave her home, her family to hide out with him in plain sight. A life without significant connection to other people because no one can know that her husband isn't aging and immortal. What woman would do that?

Sherlock sighs and continues his path through the snow filled streets of London. A new year had started, it is 1888. Only a few hours young. Maybe this year could be something special for him. A thought he has every year since mankind had started to count them.

* * *

 _'April 3_ _rd_ _1888 AD, London, Great Britain '_

Sherlock prefers the night. His eyes and the scar on his hands are less visible. He has many scars, a collection over centuries of death and living. Most of them are hidden under layers of clothing but not everything can be hidden. His eyes for example, old and tired, everyone can see that he isn't the young man he appears to be. He knows the routes of the police that guards the night so Sherlock can avoid them. He doesn't like to be questioned for his doing in the night. Most people outside at that hour have dark plans and thoughts. They use the dark hour to fulfill their sinful wishes. Sherlock also knows most of the people that have chosen to work in the night, not always voluntary chosen but they preferred to work then die from hunger.

One of the people he meets every night is Emma Smith, she told him to call her Lizzy the first time they met, but Sherlock doesn't talk to her much after the first ´hello´. She had seen his eyes and didn't like the look he had. Today she wasn't at her usual spot. Sherlock wasn't really worried, she was a prostitute, and maybe she has a customer or was out sick for today.

The state of not worrying changes suddenly as he finds the blood on the ground at the exact point where Lizzy always waited. She wasn't his friend or anything. Just a woman who does her job and was a bit lonely like himself. He followed the blood and ended at the hospital. Inside Sherlock gets the information that Emma Smith died two hours ago due to the impact of the violence attended against her body.

The worst was that apparently no one cared. Sherlock followed the investigation, which can only be called a joke. A prostitute, raped and killed at night while doing her job. Even when it was a very violent crime. She, Lizzy, wasn't important enough for this society to get notice. She is just one of this people who no one will miss.

Sherlock left the hospital and returned to the street the next night. Wandering around on the search for someone special. Someone who would give him a home, a family. The one person that will spend its life with him.

* * *

 _'August 7_ _th_ _1888 AD, London, Great Britain '_

Sherlock opens his eyes and looked into the dead eyes of Martha Tabram. He couldn't remember what happened but right now he was above a dead body that was apparently stabbed multiply times (39, he found out later) and he was holding a bloody knife.

He stepped pack and let his arm fall down. What had happen the last minutes? Sherlock tries to remember but there was nothing, nothing that would lead him to murder a woman, he actually liked. She was a bit of the motherly type, her job doesn't indicate that but she liked to look out for people. Another prostitute that could have been the mother of children when she would have married. She remembers him a bit of Lizzy but that wasn't helping.

Sherlock was still alone with the body and his clothes were soaked with blood. He couldn't change that she was dead. He doesn't feel really bad about it just distant and sad. Another live gone another vanished change.

His mind wanders to find an answer, find something that would explain the situation. Did he just kill a human and when, why? The night was quiet except for the sound of his shoes on the ground.

* * *

 _'August 31_ _st_ _1888 AD, London, Great Britain '_

… her fault, not his, hers. Why did she have to act like this? WHY? She didn't have to call him monster or freak. She didn't have to tell him that he was the ugliest being he had ever seen or that his body is a mirror for his soul. He never wanted this scars, he never wished to be immortal and survive millennia's to end in this city where no one care about the low life of the scamp of mankind. Like him and her.

Sherlock could remember her eyes as Mary Ann Nichols had finally began with the required actions for her job. Undressing him and … yes her face in disgust turned away.

Why does no one love him? Jack had seen his scars. He had looked sad and asks once about it. After Sherlock didn't give him an answer he let it be and continues to be him friend. But she, Mary Ann, she turned away, told him to get lost.

And he lost it. As the black fog left his eyes he found himself again another body, another pair of lifeless eyes and another bloody knife in his hands. Something changed that moment as Sherlock looked down at the eyes that had turned away in disgust, now dull and gray, a much better look then disgust.

* * *

 _'September 8_ _th_ _1888 AD, London, Great Britain '_

Her name was Annie, Annie Chapman, and she was dead. This time there was nearly no black fog but he watches himself as if he were far away in his mind and his eyes were a theater. He could watch the act. Every minute of it but he couldn't stop it. His hand with the knife stabbed into Annie. He cuts out the organs he wants, the piece of her that contains little parts of him. The other organs are in the way. Sherlock pushes them aside, not getting distracted by the blood and all the flesh.

He wonders if this woman could have had a family or something like that. She didn't look too good, maybe she had problems with her health. She only worked on the streets when she has to. Sherlock didn't see her every day.

Sherlock takes what he had cut out and leave this place behind. He walks slowly. At the next corner would be a police officer in a minute, he had to cross the street when the man was gone away. Just another two minutes of slowly walking through the night of London. It was just too easy to walk in the shadows between the humans that despite him, hate him. What human could change what he was doing right now?

The streets of London are filled with the lowest of lower citizens and Sherlock wonders why the world would need them. No one really misses them. Only the extent of the violence against the bodies gets attention. No one would think about it if not for the way he left the bodies behind.

* * *

 _'September 30_ _th_ _1888 AD, London, Great Britain '_

The letter had got him a name. Not his name but Jack´s. That was alright. Jack wasn't there to protect his name. He shouldn't have died in that dessert to let Sherlock alone. Sherlock wouldn't have to use it. Now Jack wouldn't care because he is dead, like Sherlock, he doesn't care ether. Elizabeth Strides lay behind him. She didn't want to go with him but somehow Sherlock had lost his rage during cutting her throat. It was pointless. She died too fast, saw it coming, he was famous now and she recognizes him. Sherlock thinks it more the look in his eyes then a face. No one knows the face of Jack the Ripper. He liked the name. Something was broken inside of him but there was no one to fix it. No one he would let fix him.

* * *

Here he could work on the body relaxed. That was maybe a reason why he hadn't played with Elizabeth, he was disturbed by the surrounding. Now he could take what he came for and let the blood fill the streets. He likes the mood in the city after one of his murders. It's a quiet screaming for answers that will not be answered. The people know they are safe as long as they are not prostitutes but Jack the Ripper could change this victim pool suddenly. Everyone could be a target.

Catherine Eddowes was like the others. A bit older, not the pretties but she gave him what he wanted until they reached a point where she starts to fight. Sherlock wasn't sure about the fight, if he liked it or not but the glassy eyes that lost all life in them are better than the look they give him.

Maybe he will write another letter. It was a bit of fun to see the people afraid of him. No longer was he hiding, he did what he wants. Not afraid that someone could see his true self. He was the ugly monster they all feared.

* * *

 _'November 9_ _th_ _1888 AD, London, Great Britain '_

She was younger than the other ones. Mary Jane Kellys. Only 25, she was also huge for a woman and her blond/reddish hair longer then he had thought after Sherlock was finished with her. The room was filled with blood. It was everywhere like the organs he had cut out of her body.

Sherlock didn't feel better after killing her and disgracing her body hadn't helped ether. He wished for something to fill the void in his heart. But who would fill it and with what. There was nothing left that he would like to. This year was nearly over and the way he had tried to follow lost months ago. He was a murderer that liked to cut his victim in little pieces, a murderer who had destroyed Mary Jane´s face just to make her ugly.

For the first time he wonders where he should go from here? Sherlock was still in this room with a dead woman, still alone in this world. Without a family or a home, he had forgotten to look for it. Who would want to have one with him, anyway?

A knock on the door distracted Sherlock from his thoughts. He jumps up and was by the window before the person outside could speak. But this voice, he knows it, that voice stopped him. He hadn't felt him coming. Had nearly forgotten about this person but now he stands behind a door that separates them.

"Sherlock´s it's me. I know you are in there and I would like to talk to you." John sounds tired and his breath came in short waves. Did he run to this place?

Sherlock looked back to the door and his eyes meet the room. How could he look at John after he did that to another human? To a person? "Stay away. You wouldn't like what you will find behind this door." He could wait until John was gone.

"I know what I will see Sherlock. But I don't really care about her. It´s too late for her anyway. I care about you and I don't think what you are doing is a solution for any of your problem. Let's talk about it." The door opens slowly and reviled his John.

… his. There was it again. Why did he call John his. He had no right to do so and he never felt about someone like this before. Only John and for the first time since over a year Sherlock felt the weight of the tags around his neck again, he had forgotten about that too. "I don't want to talk about it or her." Sherlock shys back. John sees his doing. Sees the blood and the body and the trail of death he left behind. "John, please just leave. It won't change. No one will ever be that person that I need. No one will ever lov-" Sherlock stops himself. He wouldn't tell John about the women that are disgusted by him and reject him.

It was like a black cloak laid itself over his body. The room got darker and the noises disappear. He couldn't see John or hear his words. Something was different, something was nearly gone. Black-

Two hands on his cheeks pulled him out. Sherlock takes a shattered breath and looks right into John´s living blue eyes. The unexpected thing followed after the shock, John pulled him closer and kissed him. Not one that you give a friend or a child gets form it´s parents, no this was a kiss given by someone that loves you, a lover. After overcoming the first surprised moment, Sherlock answered John´s lips. He could feel his hands searching for something to hold on as they pull John closer and find their place on his shoulder blade and lower back.

The kiss lasted only a minute as John broke it and looked right into Sherlock´s eyes. "I. Love. You." Three simple words and the black fog disappear. John Watson loves him. The entire time he had search for a home appear suddenly as useless. Sherlock stayed silent, too overwhelmed to answer. "You don't have to say it back. It´s just something I had on my mind for a long time and I wanted to share it with you." Sherlock was still too shocked to answer.

John takes his hand and suddenly Sherlock remembers where they were, in the middle of a murder scene, with the dead body of a woman he had killed minutes ago and the blood still wet. He looked at John and finds the man covered in blood, probably from the hug and kiss.

… John had kissed him with all the blood on his face.

… John had told him he loves him.

Sherlock let himself be let out of the room. The last of Jack the Rippers victims. He couldn't imagine killing someone ever again. Sherlock felt so much more right now. It was all different. Brighter, louder, warmer. John´s warm hand in his. He pulled him out in the night. He brings Sherlock back to his apartment, without walking into the police patrol that would cross their way by now. It was like Sherlock would wake up from a long sleep, filled with dreams and nightmares.

Two men, covered in blood make their way through the streets of Whitechapel. John knows exactly where to go and as the door closes behind them Sherlock felt finally able to do or say something. "John, you kissed me." Not what Sherlock wanted to say but a few more seconds to sort out his thoughts would be nice.

"Yes. Yes I did. I hope you don't mind." John looked a bit uncertain about it. As if he hadn't thought about his action himself. Sherlock was familiar that two people from the same sex could love each other. He had seen it before but it was something forbidden and dirty in the modern society.

"No I don't mind. I … I like it. I just thought you, like most people around here could be against it." That got Sherlock a smile from John.

"Sherlock where I come from there it is something that nearly everyone accepted. Not that everyone likes it or does it but it is not forbidden. And maybe soon my country will allowed same sex marriage." John stops himself, a bit embarrassed about the topic they are having. They just had kissed and John had told him he loved him and now they were talking about marriage. What was he doing?

Before Sherlock could say something else he notice John´s strange vehicle inside his hall, blogging the way. "Your parking skills are lucking of efficient." John turns around and laugh, laughs hard and he let out all the stress he was feeling. "That wasn't meant to be funny." That got him only more laughing out of the man. "Fine laugh, but I have to tell you something and it would be nice when you listen." John stops and waits for Sherlock to continue. Sherlock had have time to think about it. He had thought about it before but dismissed it again. But as John had kissed him and told him these beautiful three words this thought rises again. "John, I love you too." John´s eyes widen, they both seem to be shocked again. As if John had never thought his feelings could be answered. They should train a bit to not be shocked everything when they tell each other that they love the other. "John, I have to leave town and you should head home. Maybe we could meet the next time at a bit brighter place."

John nods as he was pushed slowly back to his vehicle. The letters he had written on it became so much more meaning suddenly. HOPE, hope for love, hope for a future, hope for a family and hope for a home with John. Sherlock and John look at each other and their lips meet again. A tender kiss, soft and carful, loving and telling. They separate and Sherlock closes his eyes. He doesn't want to see John leave.

As the vehicle was gone, Sherlock get his things and leaves with the first train the city. Not looking back. They hadn't found his last victim, the newspaper was lacking of the horrible things he had done this night. Sherlock closes them. He will let it behind. There was someone out there that loves him. Loves him, his true self that doesn't find him ugly or monstrous, who kissed him. Sherlock´s finger traced over his lips that had met John´s a few hours ago. He was looking forward for the next meeting with this impossible man he loves.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John stands in his office, in front of HOPE and very worried looks were exchanged between Mycroft and Greg. The only ones that were left at work. The agent stands there on his feet, covered in blood from head to toe and with huge glassy eyes.

Mycroft was the first that found his voice again. "Agent? Mr. Watson can you hear me? John?" He steps a bit closer to his agent and finally the eyes move and focus his surroundings.

"I just kissed Sherlock." He told them, clearly in shock about something he had seen.

Greg takes John´s arm and pulls him to the shower. Ignoring Mycroft who wants to stop them. His friend needs a bit of freshen up and sleep or rest or … he wasn't sure but it wasn't a debriefing after a mission.

* * *

 _AN:Next Chapter: The violinist on the sinking ship._  
 _An easy one again._


	25. The violinist on the sinking ship

**Chapter 25: The violist on a sinking ship**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

How John made it home the day before was a big question mark. He suspects that Greg had something to do with Greg and a limo. Why the heck has their division a limo? John was too shocked that Sherlock said it back. He hadn't thought Sherlock would think like that about him. John was fallen for this man some time ago, probably as they met in the museum. Without knowing it, he loved the man nearly his whole life and Sherlock loved him back.

If feels unreal and amazing, scary and absolutely fantastic. And right now it was a big problem because in his shocked condition he had told his boss that he had kissed their target, his charge. Will Mycroft take the case from him or will he have to change something. He could get a baby sitter. That would be awkward. Someone who is watching him and Sherlock in their strange way of communicating. They had sometimes only minutes together but it felt like years. It was like Sherlock was breathing out his story, his thoughts and feelings and John would absorb them like a sponge.

John tries to calm down, it was Thursday and he would have to stay at home after tomorrow for two whole days. 48 hours without Sherlock. What should he do? He decided he wouldn't worry unnecessarily. John couldn't know what Mycroft has planned for him so he would wait.

Today John is taking the subway, he is running late and after the last impression he let behind at work he should try to work on his image, John would have to ask Greg how he got home yesterday.

As he walked between the crowed the feeling that something was missing grows in his mind. It took John the time to his destination to find out what it was, the street musician, the man that played the beautiful music with his violin. John really enjoys listening to the man and his hunted songs of love and lost, of hope and desperation.

John pushed the thought about the man in the back of his mind, it wouldn't help when he was distracted but he decided to take the subway on his way back. Maybe the violinist would be back by then.

John was greeted like every day. Greg waved as he entered still busy with HOPE and Molly gives him his new set of clothes. She smiled and wished him a good time in the past. John had wished that he could spend a bit more time before he had to face Mycroft. He takes a deep breath and gets ready to face his boss.

"Good morning agent, I'm happy to see you found your way back alone today." John swallowed, he needs Greg to ask what happened, really soon.

"Yes sir and good morning. Ready for the next mission." Mycroft didn't comment on it further and gives him a picture, an old photo to be precise. John looked at it and had nearly let go of it.

The picture was of him, him and Sherlock. John couldn't care less for the surrounding, there were the two of them together on a picture, standing close together and smiling brightly into the camera.

"As you see Mr. Watson will you next mission be on board of the very famous ship Titanic." John's head shot up and back to the picture, yes, there was a sign telling everyone who would see the picture that the two man were on the Titanic, furniture and decoration matches the image in his mind from the movie and the documentary he had once watched while waiting for his flight to take off.

"What's the mission?" John hears himself ask, still far to focus on the beautiful man beside him in the photo.

"Sherlock is part of the crew, a violinist, playing in the background and for the amusement of the passenger. Find out why he chose this line of work and if he intends to leave the ship in America. Mr. Watson you know the ship will never arrive at its destination but I would prefer when you refer from telling anyone about it." And here it came the sentence that told John he really had spoken the very unprofessional words the day before.

"Of course sir, I would never compromise the mission." John stands more upright then before.

"I know Mr. Watson. Don't stay too long. We all know how it ends." With these words Mycroft sends him off to his mission. John can't wait to see Sherlock again. Thirty years for him, only one night for John. The difference between the two.

* * *

 _'~1912 AD, Between Ireland and New York'_

Sherlock let the music travel through the halls. It was his turn to guide the passenger through to the dining room. He really didn't care where his boss stationers him. Sherlock was happy as long as he was allowed to play his music. He found music again, a voice of his own that can get his thoughts out of his crowed mind.

Many of the passengers ask him who wrote the pieces he was playing. They tell him they can feel the love that the composer had for the person he wrote them for. Sherlock never tells them lies. He only has to read how much they know about the history of music and give them a name of one of the less famous composer. There are enough, he would never tell them that he had wrote them for John, only for John.

As Sherlock finished another one he could feel it. John was coming. The air changes and Sherlock puts down his violin, he checks the clock at the wall, his shift will be over in a few minutes. Sherlock starts to play again. John would come for him and after he had finished for today they could spend some time together.

The first notes were already capture the passengers, he had call this song 'Dear John' and the people loved it.

It was easy to spot John between the passengers. He was the only one looking at Sherlock like a love drunk idiot. Apparently he notice his behavior and disappears in a cabin. The violinist finished his song and with it his shift. He harvest his applause and leaves to find John. Sherlock knocks at the door where John had disappeared behind and opens it.

John was waiting for him at the window, smiling brightly as he saw Sherlock. "Hey there Mr. Musician." A wide grim appears on Sherlock's face.

Both men walk to the middle of the room and meet. Sherlock could see the hesitation that suddenly appears in John's eyes. To stop it Sherlock lend down and let their lips meet for a short moment. It was only a small kiss, a 'hey there love, I missed you' that tells John he didn't need to wait for him to make the first move.

John looked with this amazing blue eyes at him. "I didn't ... I mean I'm happy to see you again. You play beautiful." This insecurity was a bit sweet.

"Thank you, I wrote them all for you." The crimson face that appears in front of him was the cutest thing Sherlock had ever seen. But he wouldn't tell John he was cute, another day but not today. Some mysteries have to stay hidden for a while. "Would you like to see the ship? It's the greatest ever build and unsinkable. The last part has to been proved first but this is its first time crossing the ocean." Sherlock really likes the ship and hopes he can work here for a while. John nods and takes Sherlock's hand.

"Show me." At the door John gives Sherlock's hand free again. "Sometime soon." With another kiss they leave the cabin.

* * *

John tries to compare the movie and the real thing. He couldn't really remember it but he never thought that it would be like that. Right now they were in the first class; it looks like you could sharp off pieces of gold from the walls, all a bit much, posh and too much of everything. John couldn't relax between all the people with their money and mighty glory. "Sherlock show me your part. Not this work place of yours where no one is really happy." Sherlock leads him to a door that was for stuff only. John was glad Sherlock did the first step he wasn't sure how to greet him. What when Sherlock wasn't ready or didn't want this, whatever that is between them. But Sherlock wants it, and that's what counts and with the kiss he showed it.

Before they could walk through the door John hears the sound of an old fashion flash from a camera, he turns around and sees the background from the photo Mycroft had shown him. Before John could ask or form a question, Sherlock already pulls him to the photograph.

"John you want a picture right?" John nods, amazed how Sherlock had read his mind again. "I know the man; I can get it after the journey."

The man releases a couple as Sherlock touches him in the shoulder. "Hey Ian, would you mind taking a picture of me and my ... friend?"

"Of course not. Just play my favorite tomorrow while I'm working." John and Sherlock pose and John could believe he really was in a picture together with Sherlock. Both man smile and the unspoken word 'boy' for friends float between them. "Finished, I will work on it as soon as I'm finished for today." Ian told them before John and Sherlock leave again, this time they made it through the door.

Sherlock knew all the secrets of this ship; he told John that he knew the architect that was part of the construction team. One of the reasons why he chose this ship to work on and practice his music. The other was "John, you are the reason. This ship is famous and you told me once it's easier for you to find me at settings of great importance." Sherlock wasn't sure if they would stay in America or return to Europa. Maybe he would stay and work on the Titanic for a while.

The ship was huge and as they enter the third class the mood of the people become more honest.

John got many questioned looks. His clothing was meant to be for the first class as Molly intended because that is where he would meet Sherlock. But as soon as John opens his mouth they saw that he and Sherlock belonged to them. They had a little party as it seems and Sherlock was taken to play the violin.

Sherlock plays a beautiful, funny and very catchy melody. Soon the people began to dance as was John. The air was filled with joy and excitement. The people laugh and John catches how Sherlock looks at him like he must have looked at him playing the violin for the rich.

Neither of them notice how much time passes, they could finally separate themselves from the passenger and made their way on top of the deck. It was already night and in John grows the feeling that he had forgotten something important. Sherlock leads him to the front and they look out in the open water. Stars cover the sky and the cold air burned slightly in their lungs. They were alone outside too cold and suddenly remembers that he can't stay die much longer or he and HOPE would sink together with the Titanic to the bottom of the ocean.

Sherlock shows him the stars they stand close and were holding hands; no one was there to notice. "Love, I have to go now. I was here too long already. I loved every second of it but I have to leave now." Sherlock understands. He also sees the fear in John's eyes. Something very bad is about to happen, he could feel it.

"One last kiss for today?" John blushed again but lends forward to meet Sherlock's lips. The world stands still as they deeper the kiss, feeling centuries of waiting melting away.

* * *

Time starts again to matter as the sickening sound of sliced metal meet their ears. The ground was shaking and the ship stands still. There he was the iceberg, right next to them. Pieces of ice broke of and fall in deck. Sherlock and John separate and stare in horror at the mass of ice.

Sherlock turns to John, wants to calm him. This was the unsinkable ship; nothing bad would happen but the horror in John's eyes stop him. This was not good. "Sherlock you need to go to the lifesaving boats now." It was a whisper filled with fear. "I forgot the time." Panic peaked and Sherlock suddenly understand this ship will sink and meet her brothers and sisters at the bottom of the ocean.

"No, we need to get you back to your vehicle." Sherlock takes hold on John's wrist and pulled him back to the ship. "Where did you leave HOPE?" John was trying to keep up with Sherlock's larger legs and tells him the room number he arrived in.

The ship, its crew and passenger weren't in panic, not jet at least. They were confused and busy finding out what happen and what they would have to do now. Sherlock and John pass them all in a hurry. The cabin he had arrived him was somewhere in the middle of the ship but John knows why Mycroft had told him not to stay for too long. This cabin will be filled with water very fast and at the beginning of the sinking process, that would take over an hour.

The two men were ignored, no one cared that there were men holding hands while running through the ship. The fear grew in the passenger as they were asked to go to the lifesaving boats. Another stairs down and their feet step right into the icy cold water of the Atlantic sea. "Sherlock I will find my way. Please go back; you need a seat in the boats." Sherlock just shakes his head he wouldn't let John alone until he wasn't sure he was safe. They walk through the water and their trousers get soaked. Their feet are cold and heavy from the water but they arrive at the cabin. John opens the door and finds HOPE untouched like always.

"Now, you have to promise something." Sherlock looked at him. "You brought me to safety, now you will find a way on one of the boats. This ship is sinking. Nothing will stop it. I know you are immortal and all but when you sink in the bottom of the ocean this immortality won't help you to rise again. So you promise me that you will do everything to survive." John's eyes where hard and filled with passion as a smile appears. "I want to see you again soon." Sherlock promised John to survive and they said their good byes more with looks then with words.

* * *

Sherlock runs upstairs to the boats but there were too many people, worst it were panicking people. He couldn't fight his way through them. Sherlock know exactly how cold this water is. He had a meeting with it before and had hoped not to repeat this experience.

With the promise fresh in his mind Sherlock makes his way to the end of the ship, he saw the large crack in it and can imagine what will happen next. It will break into two parts. He needs to be on the part that stays on the surface a bit longer. The last moment he would enter the water and swim to the boats in the distance. He had to or he would eat with the fish as they say.

The screaming and shouting of the frighten people wasn't the worst that Sherlock had ever heard but it wasn't helping the situation. He wished he could help them all but he wasn't some almighty creature. He was just a man that was unable to die.

While the part of the ship he was on starts to sink to the bottom of the ocean Sherlock was glad that John was safe but at the same time he wishes for his company. The taste of his lips still on the tip of his tough Sherlock tights the grip on the fence he was holding on to. He would survive and he will reach these boats so he could return to the coast.

Maybe she should stay for another few years in Europa, the world was changing suddenly so much faster and there was much to learn and see. He wouldn't be bored and maybe he finds a good place to stay. With nice people and enough excitement to get John´s attention.

Sherlock was pulled out of his daydreaming as the surface came closer; mare seconds separate him from the cold water. He takes a deep breath and jumps. The pull from the ship wouldn't take him far this way and he can start his fight with Mother Nature and the icy cold water of the Atlantic ocean.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John was shaking from the cold as he opens the door of HOPE. Worried eyes form Greg and Molly meet him. Mycroft wasn't in sight but he was probably back soon. Greg helps him out and pushed him to the shower. "You idiot. Why did you stay that long, you could have died and get the time machine destroyed." John could hear that Greg wasn't worried about HOPE but he tried to distract from the fact that he was very worried about John.

"Sorry, forgot the time and we needed longer than thought back to HOPE." John tries to open his shoes but his finger became numb somewhere between 1912 and today. "Greg can you help me with these." Greg saw his hand and opens the shoes.

"Go, up under the shower and don't come out until you feel your fingers and toes again." John loses the rest of his clothes and disappears in the shower room. When he comes out a fluffy white towel will wait for him as his clothes.

* * *

John had finished his report and looked up his blog, no new message, no comment that suggested that Sherlock had found his message. While reading through it he has an idea.

 **Blog of J. H. Watson**

 _Dear Sherlock,_

 _I´m not sure if you aware of our timetable but today we had a great evening at the maiden trip of a ship. Compare to some ships today you could call it a small one. I really enjoyed your music even when the thought that you wrote them all for me is a bit embarrassing. By the way, the next dance belongs only to you. I notice your look while you played for us._

 _You know what happens next and most likely found a good place to live in the presents. I hope to see you soon at a place where we both are equal in time._

 _Always yours._

 _John_

The text wasn't too telling and only Sherlock would fully understand. John hit the send bottom and closes the laptop. Molly had told him to drink tea and go to bed early with a hot-water bottle. He will listen to her or he will have to answer to her if he gets sick.

* * *

 _AN: Next Chapter: My little princess_


	26. My little princess

**Chapter 26: My little princess**

 _'Present, London – 2010 Friday'_

John was checking his blog again, not that anything happened in the last five minutes he didn't hit refresh. He couldn't be sure that Sherlock had read his message or any of them before. He couldn't even be sure they were in the same country right now.

1912 was the last time they met, 98 years until today. How many missions are there to come? 2010 London, 7 billion people live on the same planet with him and one of them had to be Sherlock.

The immortal thing was the problem, there were two solutions for the moment his missions are over and they would meet at the presence (John believes in this). One way it to become immortal himself, because he couldn't imagine to let Sherlock alone, the other was getting Sherlock mortal. But both ways would need a miracle or the answer how Sherlock became immortal in the first place.

The weekend was coming so he would have time to research. Maybe somewhere lays a book that could give him the answer.

* * *

Molly and Greg were in a heated discussion as John arrives. He greets them and was already pulled closer by her as he approach them. "Wow Molly whats up?"

"I … I went to Sally´s apartment, it was empty and she was gone. I ask around and no one seems to know anything. She was just gone." Greg rolls his eyes.

"Molly she lost her job and had to move. The people don't know anything because they don't care or maybe they didn't like her that is not some government disappearing act like in the movie." Greg sighs, it sounds like he had told her that already.

"But she is gone and you only think that because you are dating Mr. Government himself." That was low, especially for Molly. Before the situation could end in a fight John stepped in.

"Ok, stop. That had nothing to do with who is dating Mycroft. Molly, why did you go to her place anyway? You didn't like her ether." Molly was playing with the sleeve of her shirt.

"I wanted to make sure she is okay. She was the only other woman here, except Anthea who isn't really here and I thought maybe she would open up a bit, we could talk. … I don't really have female friends." Her voice got quiet at the end.

"I´m sorry Molly. But it´s probably best when you let it go. You don't want to get in trouble because of her. You like your job too much for this and about friend. We are your friend and if you want to do something you think only female friends would do that we come with you and show you the different." John lays his arm around Greg who had already pictures of days in beauty salons in his head. But he wouldn't mind if it would make Molly happy. She really had seemed lonely the last days.

* * *

Mycroft enters the office; he had been busy with a telephone conference and sees his employees chatting. "Miss Hooper, would you please get our agent ready for his mission. We are a bit late today." Molly nods, pulls John with her and hurries up to get him into his clothes.

Greg steps closer to Mycroft who pulled out a file form his bag. "Mycroft, do you like Chinese?"

Mycroft still with his thoughts in his mind turned around surprised. He hadn't notice Greg coming closer. "You mean the country or the food." Greg had to surpress a laugh. He really liked that confused look in Mycroft´s eyes.

"The food, silly. I wanted to take you out to my favorite restaurant, on Sunday maybe, if you are free of course."

"I never had Chinese, don't know if I like it or not." That surprises Greg. How could someone in this time not tried out any kind of Chinese or Asian food.

"Then it´s settled, I won´t let you walk around without knowing what you have missed. Lunch at Sunday?" Mycroft nod, the date was settled. "Our second first date, the first one had too many breaks. We will have to fix that." Greg winked and steps back as John came over after changing his clothes.

Mycroft gives John a picture from the file. A picture of the Russian Imperial Romanov family, he points at a young girl. "This is Anastasia. You probably heard of her, the rumor that he could flee from the murder of her family, right." John nods, he heard also that her body was found a few years back and all the rumors were gone. "She, like her siblings have private teacher and get homeschooled. One of her teacher is Sherlock. He is listed as an employee for over five years for the family." John gives the picture of the picture back. "We will send you to the year 1913 only a year after your last meeting on the titanic. I would like to know how he got in such a special and guarded position in no time."

"Understood, sir." John walks off and takes his place inside of HOPE. Just one year between their meetings. Hopefully they would continue like that.

* * *

 _'~1913 AD, Russia'_

John enters the palace through a window. He wasn't sure if that was the real title for the building but it was fitting. He makes his way through the building without being bothered, good thing he has a plan from the rooms. Finding the right one was easy, outside the door he could hear Sherlock's voice talking in French to someone, he was giving a lesson right now.

The decision, if waiting or interrupting, was taken from him as the door was opened. A young girl looked brightly at him. "Would you like to take a walk with us?" She was smiling and something was shining in her eyes. "Please, my teacher said we would have a big break if you go for a walk with us." John chuckles.

"Young lady it would be my pleasure to go for a walk with you." He winked at her as Sherlock steps behind her.

"Miss Anastasia, this is John a friend of mine, how about we show him the garden." John offered his arm like a gentleman, she hangs her hand in and together with Sherlock they walk to the closed door that leads into the garden.

As soon as they leave the building Anastasia run off. "Shivzik, don't go too far, we have to finish our lesson later." The little princess waved to show Sherlock she had heard him.

Finally Sherlock and John had time together. John's eyes follow the little girl. "What did you call her? His Russian was a bit rusty.

"Shivzik? It means little imp. It one of her nicknames, she has many and all are related to her playing jokes in people. The duchess of Russia, Anastasia Nikolaevna. "She has a talent for language and acting. She could become a great actress with it. Sadly she isn't very good at other subject." Anastasia was kneeing next to some flowers.

"You only her teacher for language, right?" Sherlock nods. "How could you get so soon after the Titanic in such a position? How did you survive?" John was suddenly very curies, maybe to hide his guilty feelings about leaving Sherlock alone on the ship.

Sherlock picks up a little stone and throws it into a pond. "I was recommended by their previews teacher, I was befriended with his son. I got the position after he retired." Sherlock didn't answer the question about surviving a sinking ship.

While Sherlock was talking John watches the little girl. She wasn't really a child anymore, not in this area, with her 12 years she was nearly an adult. But he knows what will happen to her. Before her bones were found he could have told Sherlock to save her somehow because he could see the love that had already grow inside his beloved.

"I have figured it out by the way." John looked back to Sherlock, confused what about he was talking. "Time travel." He nearly tripped over his own feet.

"What?" How did Sherlock came to this conclusion.

"Actually it wasn't really my idea. I met a very interesting man on a train station as I had to wait for my next ride. Mr. Wells is author and told me about one of his earliest creations. ´The Time Machine´, that´s it right. HOPE is a time machine that let you travel though time and visit me. For you its only days but for me it could be centuries." John was amazed, Sherlock was brilliant and he loves him more every second. If they wouldn't be watched by a child John would kiss his immortal right now.

"You are brilliant Sherlock." There was nothing else he could say about it only that Sherlock was right and that they were finally able to talk about it.

Sherlock blushed by the word brilliant. "I read the book, is it really like that? Is the past like it happened or can it be changed? And why are you only with me on special days? And-" John lifts his hand to stop the flood of questions.

"Sherlock, don't really know the answers ether. I just sit in the machine and arrive here after my boss told me where to go." Sherlock wasn't happy about this answer it doesn't satisfied his curiosity.

"But you know what will happen, happen to her?" Sherlock pointed at Anastasia who started to copy her teacher and throw stones into the pond. "And it isn't something good." John only shakes his head. "The world is like a barrel filled with powder. That could blow up by a little spark. I can feel it. Something big is coming and I won't like it. "

John knows what he is talking about, World War One. "This world will light up in flames; it won't be the first time and not the last. You have seen the world and the people. What they can do to each other and what they would give to own a little piece of it." John holds Sherlock´s hand while they watch the little imp, playing happily. "Now I can tell you that I will start searching for a solution for the immortal problem." John changes the subject, he couldn't and wouldn't tell him when the murder of her whole family will happen.

"What problem?" Sherlock wasn't sure what he means.

"There will come a day we won't be able to meet like this, in my present. I haven't found you jet, or maybe you hide until my missions are over. I don't know. I left you messages but I can't be sure you get them." Sherlock was still confused. "Sherlock if you stay immortal you will watch me grow old like everyone else." John let the dying part unsaid. "I told you I love you and I won't leave you alone. That means we have to grow old together or be immortal." It made sense. Sherlock hadn't thought about it. He was happy enough to get the time travel thing right. His own condition wasn't on his mind since a long time.

"So you try to find a solution. Maybe I can help with it too. I can start to gather information again. It wasn't interesting in the last years." Sherlock stops and look at his pupil. "I can´t save her, right?" John shakes his head. No he couldn't.

John tights his hand that was holding Sherlock´s and let go. "I have to go know. Don't want you two to fall behind your lessons plan for today." He had told Sherlock a lot of thinks today. Mostly because Sherlock found out about the time travel but also because the importance of finding a solution became a more present problem.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 Friday'_

John couldn't believe what he just did. Not only did he told Sherlock what will happen but also that he was looking for him in the present. His presents, Sherlock´s future. Okay he didn't tell him the details only that they will die, because he really doesn't know what and when exactly it will happen but the family will die and Sherlock isn't allowed to stop it.

He chases the thoughts of the catastrophic possibilities of changing the past away as he enters the library, it was part of the public library of the city but this building contains the more … let's call it interesting books for him. Most of them are about religion, miracles and experiments from the past with questionable methods in all areas. Somewhere in here could lay the secret about immortality. John had to thank the librarian form the main section that told him that he would be most likely more successful in this part. He had the whole weekend and he would start right now. Maybe he can find something and tell Sherlock about it. Best in his blog, because what good would it do when the past Sherlock starts to get older before he was even born.

The past Sherlock, or better his present Sherlock only needs to know that he had found something so that the present Sherlock from his time, the future Sherlock of the past Sherlock can find him and get the solution. Or maybe the past Sherlock had already found something and isn't in his presents at all and there is no future Sherlock and this is the reason he never answers on this blog.

John makes a stop to his train of thoughts. Time traveling was complicated enough, he doesn't need his brain to make it more confusing and horrifying by telling himself that Sherlock could be already dead in his time. He returns to read about a second world war experiment form the Germans about making super soldiers. Sounds like immortality for him. Good that his language skills are far better than his historical knowledge. A bit like little Anastasia.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 Saturday'_

Mycroft was satisfied with the security measure at the clinic, the money that goes into the rehab center was used probably at first sign. He had to let everything that could be used as a weapon behind. Not that Sherlock was suicidal but there were people inside that are and no one wants to risk an incident.

Sherlock was patient in this clinic for eight days. His doctor had called to tell him that most of the addiction symptoms had vanished by now. The doctor was really surprised, by the amounts of drugs in Sherlock's system as he had started it should have taken up to three weeks. But Sherlock was special and had asked for a visit and who was Mycroft to denial him this when it was helping his newly found Brother.

The feeling of having a brother again was strange but Sherlock had asked in a way Mycroft would never say no. He imagine that his real brother could have become a trouble maker himself. It was giving him something he had missed his whole life.

Mycroft enters the visitor area. Many tables were occupied by patients and their families. Sherlock was waiting at one of the tables for him. A light smile appears on his face as he sees that the immortal looked better. No longer the tired, worn out eyes were looking at him.

"Hey Mycroft, would you like to play with me." An innocent question ask by Sherlock.

"Good morning to you too, little brother." The second part came without hesitation. "What would you like to play?" Mycroft sits down and Sherlock places a board game in the table, Operation. Not a game he had chosen, Mycroft wasn't good at these kinds of games.

They played for a while without much of a conversation. Both concentrated on their task to beat the other in a child's game until the batteries gave up. The game died with a scream and the nose doesn't shine red anymore. "The only other game I could recommend it chess." Sherlock offered.

As they begin to move their pieces over the board Sherlock had relaxed enough to finally talk. "I miss Mrs. Hudson's cooking, the food in here tastes like nothing."

"I might be able to get something in here, the next time I come to visit." Mycroft moved his pawn to the next place. "Have you found another piece of hope in your soul that let you continue?" For everyone that could listen, nothing was out of the ordinary in their conversation.

"I have John and I'm able to wait another few weeks for him. I will not break down and I will welcome him clean and with a smile." Mycroft was happy to hear that. He really was worried about Sherlock. "Can you tell me what the last mission was? I try to remember the time line but I not sure." First Mycroft wanted to refuse but what harm could come from it.

"He was in Russia, the walk with him an Anastasia in the garden?" Sherlock nods, he remembers, of course he does. Every meeting with John was burned into his mind. Every breath he had taken every word he had said and every spark in his beautiful blue eyes.

"Then I have a request." Mycroft's waits. „Help him. He starts his research for a solution against immortality or becoming immortal himself. He has spent his weekend in the library and found nothing." Sherlock looked sad. "I don't know the solution but maybe a bit help from your side would be good for John´s moral. He thinks he is fighting this war alone. No one should think that." Sherlock moves the Queen. "Check mate."

Mycroft leaves soon after with a new task and the feeling that their immortal will be able to wait for another few weeks. It not even starts a month ago and they already have fallen deeply for each other. Sherlock´s eyes in the museum, that what Mycroft wishes form. Someone who will look at him like he did.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 Sunday'_

"And you really never tried it before?" Greg asks as he and Mycroft enter his favorite Chinese restaurant. They had a reservation because it wasn't only Greg who liked the food here. They were greeted by a small Asian woman with an accent that could come from everywhere between China and Vietnam. They had met in front of the restaurant because Mycroft had to finish something in the office and didn't want Greg to pick him up. He would have to travel through the whole town only to go back with him.

"Gregory I hope you feel the honor of being my partner by my first time eating Chinese." The word first time let Greg blush a bit and he hides behind his menu.

The ordered and have a great time, talking about favorite food, music and children book from their childhood. It could tell a lot about a person what book you liked as a child.

"Did you know that John spend his whole Saturday and most likely today too at the library to research immortality?" Greg asks suddenly, while they enjoy the last bit of their wine.

"I'm aware of the situation." Mycroft really was, after Sherlock had asked him the day before. He still wasn't sure how to help without raising red flags and getting unwanted attention.

"I tried to get him out for a beer but he told me he would research at home after closing hour." Greg continues, Mycroft could feel the question that would follow. "Would you ... you know help him a bit. If possible?" John Watson was a lucky man, gifted with friends like this.

"Yes I can help with the research, maybe there is a way for them both." Because that was what they needed, a way to give Sherlock and John a future together. Immortal or mortal.

They finish their lunch, notice that it was already late afternoon and walk home together. They cross a park and Greg acted on impulse, he takes Mycroft's hand. Mycroft closes his fingers around Greg's and they continue their path holding hands. The first real sign of a relationship. Greg was glad that they taking it slow but this was nice. He only hopes that Mycroft can't feel his beating heart through his hand.

They arrive far too soon at Mycroft's door, they should let go of the others hand but they weren't ready yet. Knowing that staying here would lead to something Greg needed more time as was Mycroft he finally looks away from the door at each other. "Then till tomorrow." Greg offered. Mycroft didn't answer and lend down. Their lips meet and a short kiss was exchanged.

"Good night Gregory." Said Mycroft's mouth after they were separated again. His eyes ask if this kiss was okay. And hell was Greg okay with it.

"Good night Mycroft." His eyes say do it again soon.

* * *

James Moriarty or Jim for his friend looked at the nervous looking women in front of him. A new client, he rarely takes them without a recommendation but she found him with one wish, destroy Mycroft Holmes.

It was already late and the night had swallowed the city of London. Feeling quiet comfortable in the shadows, Jim takes pity on that woman and steps out into the light of the streetlamp. She flinched back a bit but collected herself again. Impresses. Jim knows and uses his presents of death and horror for his job. It´s a benefit to be feared in his line of work.

"Miss Donavan, you are here to hire me. Tell me your wishes and we might come to an agreement regarding the payment." He had her full attention and her fear, he loves the smell of frighten people in the air. He would take her case but she didn't have to know that. He likes the fish on the rope to fight for its life and freedom before he puts it into the bucket with water to eat it later.

"I want to know the secrets of Mycroft Holmes; I want to destroy him because he destroyed my carrier." Her voice loses the fear and anger makes itself known. An angry women on a revenge trip. Poor Mycroft, hadn't he learned to be careful with women, they can become quiet monstrous. Jim laughs and offered her to follow into the shadows.


	27. New try for a peaceful Europe

**Chapter 27: New try for a peaceful Europe**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

It was early but many people were already in the government building. A man, huge compare to others makes his way inside the 'office' as it is called by the people who work there. He wears a mask, Jim told him to, and he would do everything that Jim asks of him. Years before he might have questioned some of the instructions, but not anymore. He belongs to Jim like anyone who asks him to do something.

The mask man reaches the small workstation of his target. The man, Philipp Anderson, was already in the building, close by but he wasn't worry. He was a pro and without hesitation the man opens the wrapping of Anderson's breakfast bread and puts in a little something extra. Jims special.

Not be seen the man left again and disappears into the shadows.

* * *

John was unhappy with himself. He had spent the whole weekend researching but he came back with nothing. Of course he hadn't read every book but still all he could find were some fictional ideas of the eternal life. Nothing remotely scientific, nothing he could use to find out how Sherlock became immortal in the first place. John doubts that he was born that way.

John walked to work, deciding against the subway he doesn't want all the people around him right now. Maybe a tea would help. He stopped at a Café and got himself a nice cup to go and while walking he starts to relax. Maybe Sherlock came up with something.

As John enters the office he was nearly tackled down by Anderson and two security guards. The man was on vacation the last week, probably not fully voluntary. His colleague was screaming and shouting out thinks about their mission. The guards hold him down and one man got out a syringe and put the contain into Andersons bloodstream. The man's movement decrease and he get limp the next second.

"Get him to the hospital; find out what he came in contact with. His workstation is off limit. No one touches anything he came in contact with this morning. Send a team to his flat." Mycroft's voice takes the room and people moved to follow the comments.

John walked over to a shell shocked Molly who looked like she was close to tears. "What happened here?" He had a blurry picture but that made no sense.

"I came in and ... he greeted me like he usually does. Anderson told me from his vacation, he visited his mother and then suddenly he started to scream." John lays a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. Molly takes another breath. "Good think that Mycroft was here and that the security came imminently.

"Mr. Watson, please get ready for your mission." Mycroft sounds annoyed and worried at the same time but it seems like he was ignoring the whole thing to get him on his mission.

"Yes, sir." With a hand on Molly's lower back he pushed her softly to the changing area. After getting ready, John was changed; he starts to think about Anderson. He had to be poisoned or something like that. Was their office really safe?

On the table waits a few pages of documents for John. "Sherlock's name is on the list of translators and consultant for Great Brittan at Paris Peace Conference in France after the war ended." Sherlock had signed behind his name and John touches the ink with his fingers. "Your mission is to find out why he chose to be there." Mycroft's voice took him away from his thought. "And be careful, the war isn't gone too long. There are still people who would prefer the fight, don't start another war."

"Understood. I'm on my way then." John leaves and knows that the first think Mycroft will do after he left was finding out what happened to Anderson. His friends and colleagues should be safe.

* * *

 _'~1919 AD, Paris, France'_

John arrives at the location; he had landed a bit further away. Most likely another measurement to keep every disturbance from the conference. The cold air of January caught him by surprise. Molly or Mycroft hadn't thought about a coat for this time of year. Or maybe the whole thing with Anderson had distracted them all a bit too much.

With the papers he had got from Mycroft, John was able to enter the building without problems. Sherlock should be somewhere close. While John was still busy finding his way someone grips him and pulls him into the room behind.

Someone was able to sneak up to him without getting notice. Right as John wanted to fight his lips meet very familiar once, anger lips that were looking for more and more contact. Sherlock's sense filled Johns nose and he relaxes into the kiss, answering it. Between the kisses there were words of needing and missing exchanged but John wouldn't be able to tell who said what.

As they finally separate after another long kiss that was softer and deeper. Both man looked breathless into each other's eyes. John notice they were in a broom closed, what a cliché. "Oh wow didn't know I needed that right now." John grimed.

"I know I needed that, I missed you and it was far too long between now and the last time I could kiss you." Sherlock gave him another quick kiss.

"You want to spend the rest of our time here in a broom closet?" John asks and gets a no from Sherlock. "Not the worst place to spend time together." John winked; at least they could show their affection for each other here. John really begins to hate this homophobic behavior outside this room. "How is the peace conference going?"

Sherlock sits down and John followed. Close together he feels the heat Sherlock was giving him. "We are on a break. It's making progress slowly but at least we have it. After four years of war they all try at least to keep peace. They all lost something. Hopefully we will never again have a war like this." John bit his lips, there would be another war. No, wrong many wars will follow. All will cost many lives. "I hope I can support them, this time in a more political way. Not my preferred line of work but how else can I get them to listen, these so called leader of their nation."

Sherlock sounds upset; he had probably tried many times to change something. Stopping the war before it even starts, the war as it was going, the people in this war but John wasn't sure he should ask what Sherlock had done since the last time they met. They set together shoulder in shoulder, starring into the semi darkness of the room. "I couldn't find anything on the immortal thing. Researched the whole weekend and everything that I have found was lots of fantasy and fairy dust." Sherlock looked surprised about the sudden change of topic. He knows John is here on some kind of mission, but it seems as when he wasn't really interested in his mission today. "But I won't stop, don't worry." The smile he gave Sherlock was for both of their sake.

"When you wait in cellars for the worst to pass, you have lots of time to think about stuff." John waits what will follow. "I tried to remember my childhood but their came nothing back but I think I was a child, I stopped changing after my first death. I remembered it. I don't know how or why but I fell off a cliff and woke up on the bottom. A fall I shouldn't have survived." Sherlock looks at John. "Maybe that will help."

Maybe it will, but nothing about that death sounds special or could explain why Sherlock came back to life. "Do you know how long ago that was?"

"No not really. I don't have the whole time concept inside; it was long ago before we met first. I think I was different from the people I lived with, my appearance and my intellect." It sounds lonely, lonely like most of Sherlock's long life.

A knock on the door pulled them both out of their comfortable world where only they exist. They got up in time as the door was opened. Two men in uniform stand there and looked at them.

"Thank god someone is here. We got locked inside, the door wouldn't open anymore." Sherlock had stepped in front of John and got all the attention. While Sherlock explained their situation they got out of the closet. The soldiers left, because Sherlock told them it was a joke under colleagues (from the same country), no reason for another war, worst case.

"I think I should leave, we don't want to get caught again, right." Sherlock takes John's hand for a second.

"Hope we meet again soon." He let go of the Hand and brings him to the door. "Where is your coat?"

"I don't have one, but the way isn't long." Sherlock disappeared into a room next to them and told John to wait. He came back with a warm looking coat.

"Don't want you freezing. The winter in Paris is cold." John thanked him and they had to let go of each other.

* * *

Out of the shadow, not too far away from the two men who were obviously in love, James Moriarty returns to his room. He had found him again. It had taken him many years. But there he was but like the other times he wouldn't approach him. It was much more interesting to play. So much more fun. Anyway he was busy anyway had to find someone new he can offer his serves.

Moriarty let his eyes travel away from his favorite toy. He doubt that Sherlock would recognize him anyway but better don't risk it. It wasn't time yet to meet.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John returns and found only Molly waiting for him. "Mycroft and Greg are at the hospital. Someone broke in and put something into Anderson's food." He walks over to the changing area, thinking that he should call Mrs. Hudson again. He hadn't called the elderly lady. "Where did you get that coat?" She sounds more than upset.

"Sherlock gave it to me; he wouldn't let me go into the cold without it." He takes the coat off and Molly takes it away.

"Is he also the one that gave you the swallowed lips?" John's finger shot up and touch his lips. They feel warm and he could still taste Sherlock on them.

"Yes I know very unprofessional, to my defend he pulled me into a broom closet and kissed me senseless into the wall before I could react." Realizing what he just had told her a warm makes itself known in his cheeks.

Before the whole conversation could get more awkward John choses the moment to call Mrs. Hudson. She was happy to hear from him and invites him for tea. He should bring his friends. Greg wasn't there so he ask Molly who was very happy about the indentation.

It ended of course with a dinner because Mrs. Hudson nearly cried as she told them that since her tenant went to rehab no one was eating her food.

* * *

Greg and Mycroft were in the way home after they got the information about Anderson's condition. He really was poisoned and he would have to stay for a while because the drug that had been used messed up his brain chemistry. The mask man they saw in the video of the security camera was still on the run and they had no idea who it could be.

Mycroft was worried that someone was messing with his plan to get the time line and the love story between John and Sherlock right. Both men were exhausted as they arrive at Mycroft's house. How they ended here together was a big question mark. Mycroft invites Greg to stay the night and after the day they both had he agreed.

That they shared a bed (only cuddling) stayed unspoken between them. Their life had become much more dangerous and being close to each other was definitive helping.

* * *

 _AN:_ Next week will a new member of the time travel team and an inpatient immortal who is done with his current residence.  
Chapter 28: Music and theater, the door to the soul of men


	28. Music and theater, the door to the soul

**Chapter 28: Music and theater, the door to the soul of men**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Mycroft has a problem; he has to replace Miss Donavan and Mr. Anderson. He can't let Gregory and Miss Hooper do all the work. But bringing someone in, so late into the mission, was that really a good idea?

The vita of possible candidates was waiting in the kitchen table. He had asked Anthea to bring them over after the visit in the hospital and due to a surprising but very welcome overnight guest had Mycroft completely forgotten to make a decision.

Greg was still sleeping and the early hour justifies it, still he needs an answer and the replacement before breakfast. While reading another file about another perfectly fitting candidate Mycroft hears noises from upstairs. Gregory was awake. Closing the file he makes coffee and gets the food ready for his guest.

"Morning Gregory, did you sleep well?" Mycroft ask while placing coffin and food in the table. Greg kisses him in the cheek from behind.

"Yes, until my heating cushion decided that 4 am was a great time to get up." Mycroft smiled apologizing and returns to his files. "What you working on?" Greg takes another bite of his toast with egg. He would accept if Mycroft couldn't tell him.

"I´m looking for a new member for our team. We need another person. Maybe you could help?" Mycroft asks and surprised Greg with not only offered an answer but also the opportunity to help, he takes the file and starts to read imminently.

The personal files and vita look all alike for him. No wonder Mycroft had problems to find someone. They were all fitting for the position. Pass every test and evaluation they had to take. "Pick one you think would fit." Mycroft says. That wasn't helping. Horrified by the responsibility he had taken without thinking Greg looked at the picture. Most of them were this typical agent typ. Then the total nerds and the last group, the invisible. Greg looks at the invisible and decided to take the one with the most impressionist eyes.

"That one." Greg gives the file over to Mycroft, he looked inside, nods and they continue their breakfast in peace, without world changing decisions.

* * *

John was busy changing his clothes under Molly's watchful eyes that everything sits perfect as the message arrived. A short text from Mrs. Hudson.

 _Just got fantastic news, William, my tenant will come back soon and he ask me if a flatshare was possible. He is getting better. Happy to get him back. See you soon. Mrs. H_

John was glad that the tenant was on his way back to her, she really missed him. But that went a bit fast for John's liking. He hopes this William guy would return clean. He answers her message and tells Molly and Greg the news. Mycroft listens too and already plans the next visit by his brother. Only the flatmate thing takes a second to understand, Sherlock is planning for a live with John already.

Mycroft hands him money and a map for his visit in New York. "You will visit a concert Mr. Watson, hope you will enjoy the premiere. Sherlock is the first violin. Find out why he had changed from political activist to concert violinist. The change seems extreme."

John could already imagine why but who was he to stop himself from visiting Sherlock and listen to his music. He remembers the songs he had wrote for John and played in the Titanic.

* * *

 _'~February 12th 1924 AD, New Yok, USA'_

John was fascinated, the building, the people, everything was majestic and beautiful, just breath taking. At the entry was a ticket selling booth. John had money to get inside but even with his suit he feels underdress and not ready to walk into the premiere of some Broadway composer.

He sighs without having a choice John walks to the ticket guy. "One ticket please." He hopes he has the accent. The man looked at him, did he do something wrong?

"Mr. Watson, John Watson?" John nods why does this man know his name? "A ticket is waiting for you sir, our first violin left it behind for you with a drawing of you." The man showed him the drawing. A detailed piece of art, showing him.

John takes the ticket and enters the hall. Everywhere we're poster of the premiere day of Rhapsody in blue. John smiled and goes looking for his seat.

* * *

Sherlock was waiting in his seat he would stand up when his friend arrives and then the concert would start. It was the first concert this huge that he was part of. The other times he was to a more selected crowed, in a much smaller environment.

He was really nervous; the only thing that would make it better is John. A ticket is waiting for him but if his friend is coming was a huge unanswered question. Even when he isn't coming to the first, there would be a ticket waiting for him every time.

Sherlock knows he is inpatient that five years are nothing but he want to see John again. He wants him to stay, forever.

George Gershwin, or GG like Sherlock calls him every time he wants to tease him enters the room. They had worked on this piece together but Sherlock doesn't want his name on it. He likes to play and the songs he wrote are just for John.

Georges hand rest on his shoulder, an attempt to calm him down. Sherlock hopes that music is the key to reach mankind and keep peace. Because the world begins already to forget the horrors of the war especially here in America.

* * *

John was fascinated by the music and the ambient, most caught him Sherlock in his majestic suit and the violin attached to him like it belonged there. After the concert Sherlock looks directly at him, their eyes meet. John was sure Sherlock had seen him before they started but he had no chance to share a moment as you could call it.

They would meet at the artist entry, this was the easiest way. John had no problem finding it and Sherlock came out in more casual clothing ten minutes later. The ally was empty and they share a passionate kiss. John had no idea how Sherlock survived without it every day.

"Hey genius." John whispers as they had their foreheads together. "I liked you concert and thanks for the ticket." He smiled as He feels Sherlock blush a bit.

"Thanks, I missed you." Sherlock lifts his head and desperation was shown in his eyes. "Can you please stay here with me, forever?" Sherlock's eyes wide, realizing what he just said and the sad look in John's eyes told him that he would or could not.

"I would love to, believe me Sherlock. I want to stay with you forever until the end of time but look at me. I'm just a normal guy. I will grow old and die in blink of your eyes." John takes Sherlock hand he sees the acceptance in them. "We have to find out how to get you mortal or me immortal but when you find the solution to become mortal you can't take it now. Do you understand?" Sherlock nods. "We have to wait until our timelines match."

"I will wait and search for it. Don't worry. It was just me missing you too much." John touches softly his cheek. "I will continue with my music or find something like it, maybe I can keep the world from falling apart.

They had to say their good byes soon after, John had spent enough time in the past. Sherlock takes him to HOPE and with a last kiss they separate.

* * *

It was a fantastic performance and Moriarty makes a mental note to visit again sometimes soon when he is not distracted by Sherlock´s lover.

He sits only a few seats in front of him, his eyes are glued to his creation. Good thing that he had found him again after so many years. Moriarty hadn't thought that it would take him so long to find him. But in Paris he finally had him. Maybe hundred years, maybe more but from now on until he is bored again. He will follow Sherlock and his Lover who ever that is and where he came from. The only thing he knows is that the Lover is a normal mortal person.

"Let's see what you do with the gift of immortality I gave you, my creation."

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John steps out of HOPE, still the sore taste on his tongue for telling Sherlock he can't stay. To his surprise was not only Molly but also Greg, Mycroft and an unknown person waiting for him.

"Mr. Watson, good to have you back." John waits for whatever Mycroft had coming for him. "May I introduce you James Moriarty, your new colleague."

Moriarty holds out his hand for John to shake. "Hi, I'm Jim, nice to meet you." He was very friendly, a bit too euphoric but okay, still something was strange. Like a Deja vu, like he had seen the man before but John couldn't place him.

"Nice to meet you too. Call me John." John couldn't shake of the feeling but smiled and pretends that everything is fine. Good that Molly calls him away to get changed.

* * *

 _AN: Chapter 29: Lab-sharing and the smallest of living creature  
Incloding a bit more of present Sherlock, the shadow that follows Sherlock through the years that comes closer to find out John´s secret and the accident that changes the world of medicine. _


	29. Lab-sharing and the smallest of living c

**Chapter 29: Lab-sharing and the smallest of living creature**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

The pain in his neck was the first thing John was feeling. With a sigh he sits up and massages his crumped muscles. He had fallen asleep on his kitchen table with his laptop right in front of him, showing John the last page he had been reading last night. The topic was clear: immortality. It was the homepage of some cult in east Europa that believes their leader is immortal and how he became immortal. John rolls his eyes all religious rubbish but he was at a point where he reads everything.

Tired and with a growing headache John gets ready for work. He was a bit late so no tea, no breakfast and no enjoying of the morning. He takes the subway and was grumpy the whole time. The crying child, the chatty teens and the anger elderly people, they all got to his nerves.

* * *

Greg was early at work; he had a good night sleep and was looking forward to see Mycroft again. They hadn't had a chance the day before to do anything after they arrived at work. Thinking about it they haven't label themselves as a couple, at least Greg was thinking of them as one, maybe they should talk about it.

He finds Mycroft at his desk in the office; in the same suit they had said their good bye the other day. He didn't leave and go home; Mycroft was here the whole night. Greg sighs, how did he end up with such a workaholic.

"You know you missed the night, right?" Greg greets him. Mycroft looks up with tired eyes, which told him, whatever he was doing was not very successful.

"Good morning. Yes I'm aware of the time and my loss of a good night sleep." Mycroft closes a book and his laptop. "I ... My brother ask me to help him with something or better his most important person but I can't find anything useful." The frustration was clearly written in his face and Greg could also feel it in the air.

"Can I help?" What else could he offer but Mycroft shakes his head, no he couldn't. Greg feels useless. Out of instinct he lays his arms around the man in front of him and gives him a kiss, long and deep as if nothing around them counts anymore. Greg feels Mycroft loose under his touch. At least he could do that, supporting and take care of the man he loves. They really should talk about their relationship status.

* * *

Mycroft feels more relax after the kiss Gregory gave him, feeling the endless support and believe in him flooding his system that was filled with defeat and helplessness. His research was as successful as John by the look at the man.

He would like to ask but he couldn't give away that he knows what John is looking for. Instead he told his agent the next mission. Finding out who contaminate the experiment from Alexander Flemming what leads to the discovery of Penicillin and its use. He is send to the day the contamination will happen.

Before John left Mycroft came closer and lays a hand on his shoulder. "John." This was the first time he called him by his first name like that. "If you need help or just someone to talk to and listen, you can come to me."

Mycroft could read the fear in John's eyes that told him that he doesn't want him to know that he is looking for a cure because he couldn't be sure of his approval and support. "Thank you sir, but I'm alright, just a bit tired."

Jim watched the exchange; he was doing his 'job' while watching his competition. Sebastian was right, the office isn't secure at all and the greatest weaknesses were the people. In his first hour here he found out that Lesteade and Mycroft have some kind of affair going on, that Johnny boy was trying (not successfully) to hide his relationship with his charge and Molly was to good thinking of people and too focus on her obsession for the clothes.

Not really what you would expect from a government operation that had to work smoothly. Jim rolls his eyes and continues his task. How did they even got so far. After reading their mission reports they are all luckier then they should.

* * *

 _'~1928 AD, London, Great Britain'_

John had arrived in the cellar of the building Sherlock and Alexander Flemming should be in. While walking fast through the halls he nearly run into another person. He was wearing a lab coat and had his back to John but there was something really familiar about the man but he couldn't place it. Ignoring the feeling in his gut John walks to the Lab and knock.

A muffed, come in let John enter the room and finds Sherlock beaming at him and the younger version of Alexander Flemming watching them interested. He only has the picture of him, old and famous, one that was several years after this day, with a Noble prize.

"John there you are, I was waiting for you." For everyone except John and Sherlock did it sound like two friends that had arranged a meeting and John was late. For them it tells John that he had been missed and that Sherlock find four years are far too long. "Alex, I will show John around a bit." The other man in the room nods.

John can't wait to feel Sherlock's skin under his fingers again turns around fast and bumped into the table to his left. The glass bottle in it were shaking dangerous and one fell, opening one of the petri dishes and letting some of it's contain out and mix. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, it was an accident." John reaches out to clean up or save it but a hand stops him. To his surprise it wasn't Sherlock's, Alexander Flemming was holding his arm.

"I wouldn't do that, could be dangerous also it isn't something important, so don't worry." John nods and takes his hand back.

"Still, I'm sorry." Feeling guilty by ruining the man's work Sherlock had to push John out of the lab. It takes John a whole minute to understand what he just did. The reason for his mission was already discovered. Hopefully Mycroft wouldn't get disappointed because John's accident lead to Penicillin as weapon against bacteria.

* * *

Moriarty had been surprised as he nearly walked into John. Yes, John he knows the name of this person. Hiding his face as good as possible was the only solution he could think of. This strange person that hadn't aged a day in ten years was the sours of his interest; he would stay close and watch, his favorite study object and his lover.

* * *

Sherlock pulls John into an empty room, as the door closes he starts to kiss him but they only got a second to share the same air as they hear a sound behind them. Surprised and shocked they stare at a cage with rats. They release their hold breaths and look at each other. At the same moment John and Sherlock start to laugh, not caring who will hear them. "Okay that was close, just rats but that's bad enough. Next we will first check the room. Sherlock suddenly closes their distance and hugs John.

"I really missed you and I will miss you after you left again." Sherlock didn't let go and John enjoys the body warmth. Sherlock had to be a great cuddler in bed. John blushed by this thought but secretly looking forward to such an event, whenever that will happen.

"We have a few more minutes." John takes Sherlock's hand and lead him to one of the corners. They sit down, close together. "I was researching a bit more last night and I thought we could work through a list of possible ways how you became immortal." Sherlock nods. "Okay don't laugh. Just say yes when something makes sense for you." Another nod. "Here it comes. Did you drink of the source of eternal life? Have you eaten the heart of a god? Did you get cursed by a witch? Were your parents or someone else in you village, clan or tried something else then a human? Were you born on another star? Are you a god?" John takes a deep breath.

"That sounds all very ... unlikely." Sherlock was right but what else could he do. "I don't think I can remember my childhood but it felt normal compare to my life now. I'm sorry John."

"Don't be sorry we will find a way. But I think the key for all of this is for you to remember your childhood." John smiles encouraging. "How is your work coming forward?"

"It's great, I really enjoy working with Alexander, his intellect is very productive you could say." Sherlock smiled he always likes to tell John that he is doing good, even without him, so John doesn't have to worry. They don't want a second Jack the Ripper.

"Did you discover something?" Sherlock shakes his head.

"We just started; it will take some time until there are results." Sherlock's mind wander for a second to the experiment he had to prepare today and was really looking forward to. He loves working in the lab.

Knowing that he had messed up one of the experiments and interrupting Sherlock by his work John decided that it was time to leave. Sherlock gets up first and holds out his hand for John to take. They keep holding in to each other until they left the room. This small moment of intimity was all they needed to show the affection they feel. A last hug and a sweet kiss later John steps into HOPE and leave his scientist to his work.

* * *

Moriarty could watch the lovers say their good byes, strangely in a dead end in the cellar. There was something strange, he couldn't really see it but Jonny boy got inside and suddenly this thing was disappeared.

Fascinating was all the immortal could think. Searching his mind for a possible explanation he came to a novel he once read. It was only the script but he was sure it was published. Time machine... That was the answer. Moriarty was amazed that it had taken him this long to find that out.

Finally his creation was giving him the excitement and the challenge he needed. He wasn't surprised in a long time. The only question that was left was from what time Sherlock's lover was from.

Already planning to infiltrate the mission Moriarty was returning to his own lab.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Mycroft sits in his car; the driver had picked him up as soon as John had returned. He was to distracted about his worry for Sherlock that he completely ignored the accident that his agent had cursed in the past. He also ignored the looks in his colleagues faces for his reaction and just left them behind. Mycroft could hear the new one ask Gregory of that was normal but he didn't wait to listen to the answer.

On the seat next to him was a bag full of case files from ongoing missions and unsolved once. While his agent was in the past he had a small conversation with Anthea about how they could keep Sherlock at the rehab center. They figured out that the worst was probably the boredom. The cases should solve that. A method to keep the immortals mind busy and at rest at the center.

He arrived at the center and was lead to the visitor room. Sherlock was already waiting for him. The immortal looked better with every day. "I know why you are here but if you can't give me something against the boredom I'm out of here on Friday."

"Good thing I came prepared." Mycroft offered Sherlock the bag with the mission files. Sherlock looked at the first one. "I hope this will challenge you for a bit. In these files wait unsolved mysteries, unfinished mission plans for impossible missions and cold cases of murder that need solving. There is more where that came from." Mycroft smiled his secret smile as he sees the excitement in Sherlock's eyes. "I guess that will keep you busy a while."

Sherlock nods and start reading, expecting that Sherlock was done with him, happy but done, Mycroft gets up. "Where was he today?"

"Alexander Flemming, his lab where he cursed the accident." Sherlock smiled fondly; yes they hadn't founded the antibiotic without him.

"Still a few years to go then. Good day Mycroft."

"Good day little brother. Enjoy your reading." Mycroft leaves sure that Sherlock was safe for another few days from himself.

* * *

 _AN: Next week we have another special, Sherlock and Jim meet but it wasnt the first._  
 _Chapter 30: Under the cloak of a dark time, Olympic Games_


	30. Under the cloak of a dark time, Olympic

**Chapter 30: Under the cloak of a dark time, Olympic Games**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Sherlock couldn't sleep, his thoughts were too wild, too busy to let him close his eyes and escape into sleep. He wasn't tired but he had started to lay down around midnight to get some kind of rhythm but not tonight. He wouldn't be able to stay still for one minute.

The windowsill was big enough for him to sit down and look out of the window. The institution was outside of London, enough distance to let the light of the city dim down and get the stars and the moon a chance to illuminate the night. Sherlock likes the night he had spent countless nights alone in the dark only surrounded by the stars and his nightly companions that share the dark hour until the sun came back again.

It was Thursday, for another few minutes; John was most likely busy with researching immortality. Sherlock hadn't found an answer but how could he tell John that. There were only a few weeks left before the last meeting in the past. They hadn't much time left. Also Sherlock hadn't decided jet if, no when they find a solution if Sherlock wants to be mortal or if he will ask John to join his immortal life. But that's not important, not really. Sherlock will spend as much time as possible with John immortal or not.

What was John's mission today? Sherlock had to think a second so many meetings in a single century. A smile appears on his face. The Olympic Games, yes that was today's mission. Sherlock looks at his pile of work deciding if he will continue his planning in the east Europa mission or return to the murder of an agent in 1989. Not boring at all. Thanks brother. But Sherlock looks out of his window again. Watching the moon rise to its peak. A beautiful night for watching the stars.

* * *

Jim had left the office hours ago and was waiting for his chance. It was all planned, every single escape route, every entre, all ways to the room where his target stays in. He was ready and nothing will stop him.

Entering the building was easy; money buys you the way in. It was time that they meet and where would be a better place than a secure medical center. No running and no hiding. His creation will understand that he isn't alone in this world.

They had only met once in the past as rivals in a stupid, unimportant game made by man. Today they would meet as equals in a world where they were alone. At least to his knowledge. Jim knows his creator had choses death millennia's ago. He wasn't sure what had happened to the one before him but that wasn't his interest right now.

Hopefully Sherlock won't disappoint him, Jim had waited too long for that day to be disappointed. At least he still has his way out of this world gets too predictable.

* * *

A small knock on the door pulls Sherlock back into his room away from the stars. It was unusually that one of the nurses would check in him more so to this hour. "Come in."

To Sherlock's surprised it isn't a nurse or a doctor, not even Mycroft. It's a stranger and the smile in his face is not happy. The man starred down on Sherlock, he stands very close and looks at him like an animal in the zoo.

Sherlock's first thought is that the man is another patient but he isn't wearing intuition clothes. "Who are you?" Sherlock finally ask. The man walks another step closer and finally the light from the moon reveals the persons eyes.

Sherlock knows him. He had met the man before, nearly eighty years ago by the Olympic summer games 1936 in Nazi Germany. In a boxing fight for the gold medal, Britain versus Germany.

Surprised and afraid those are the two main feelings that he was feeling right now. He wasn't alone was telling him a voice in his head, there were others like him.

"Hi, James Moriarty. Long time not seen Sherlock." That was the first words the stranger, no James Moriarty says. "You might wonder how I came here." Sherlock shakes slightly his head. "No? Then why I´m here or no better I will answer the question you had before you recognized me."

Moriarty sits down on the bed and Sherlock turns around in his seat in the windowsill. Both men look at each other every line in their faces, every spark in their eyes. "Tell me." Sherlock whispers, still unsure what is happening or how he should react. He had never met someone like him openly, yes they had met but Sherlock hadn't known. Moriarty apparently had.

"I'm your creator, the easiest way to describe our relationship." Moriarty picks up one of the case files that lay in the bed. "Can you remember the day we met?"

Sherlock was shocked but he could get his mouth to open and answer the question. "The Games, our fight. You won." Moriarty shakes his head.

"No, that wasn't our first. But it is the first you remember apparently." Sherlock tries to remember the day John visited him at the Summer Games 1936, did he meet the man before the fight?

* * *

 _Germany 1936_

 _John had sneaked inside his changing area. He was wearing the official outfit for the support team for the athletics from the Britain team members. They were alone in the changing room and John sit down quietly next to Sherlock. They were close and Sherlock could feel the others body heat. Their hands meet between them and hold on to the other tight._

 _John tenderly let his thump touch Sherlock´s hand. This simple act of intimacy was enough to repay Sherlock for the years he had been alone. He had never thought that one single touch could heal countless hours of longing and suffering, could heal his heart and let reset it all. He was immortal, time was a strange thing for him who never had to mind it but since John enters his life and become more than just a passing person time matters again and Sherlock had forgotten what that means._

 _The last days had been filled with nervous energy for the coming fight but John smoothed the air and the fight for the gold metal seem unimportant. Sherlock had chosen the Games to get to Germany to get a closer look. The country was building up for a war, a war the world hadn't seen and it was coming soon. Sadly Sherlock hadn't found a way to stop it and the Games hadn't change any relationships between the nations, it made it worse in his eyes._

 _Sherlock´s next opponent was a young German fighter, he couldn't remember the name but it wasn't really important. Winning was not the aim Sherlock was pointing at. John his lucky charm was here and it was helping. Sherlock told John what he was fearing would come soon and John´s eyes told him he was right. But John didn't tell him this time. Maybe it was for the best._

 _John spent the remaining time until the match with him in the changing room. No one would come and interrupt them until the fight took place. They didn't talk about the immortal thing, there was nothing new, they both came up empty and they start feeling the necessarily for it. John left as Sherlock had to get ready, he didn't want to watch the match and Sherlock was okay with it._

 _Sherlock´s opponent enters the arena and Sherlock was sure he would never like his man. His aura was dark and like the upcoming war filled with blind hatred. As if he was the source of it and poisons the world with his appearance._

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

"You still thinking about the day we had our fight. Sherly don't disappoint me." Moriarty looked angry, no mad. A mad man, immortal and cursed to stay on this planet forever. Sherlock swallows, if this man created him, he had lived longer then him. Will Sherlock go insane because that's what the man in front of him is, insane form living to many lives. "We met long before the first civilization grown big enough to get notice. Don't you remember meeting me? You were a child, bright and showed potential, where is this child?" Sherlock stand up, he wants to be ready for a fight because James Moriarty looked like he would attack the next second but suddenly his mood changed again. "I guess I will play a little while longer with you. We have time and maybe you will remember me, now that you know what to look for in the brain of yours."

The man stands up and leaves Sherlock behind before he could say another word. He won't get sleep this night that's for sure. Slowly Sherlock sits down again as the door closes. He wasn't alone and the man was insane but he also had the answer for the immortal question. The answer he needs to stay together with John for the rest of their lives.

* * *

Jim was a bit dissapointed but as he start thinking about it he clamed down. Their first meeting wasn't as important for his creation as for him and it was a long time ago. Maybe it was to apologize but still he had wished that his appearance would trigger Sherlock´s memory.

Time …

Yes they had time, that was all they had. Time more than any living creature should have and that was the problem, they don't live like that. They just ´be´ and that wasn't enough for him or Sherlock. He had seen the hidden question in the other immortals eyes. He wants to know how he became immortal to get mortal again or the alternative way to get his boyfriend immortal. This wish was prove for Jim that his creation was starting to live and that was something he couldn't let happen because who lives doesn't want to stay still with him.

The immortal sighs and get into the car that waits for him at the corner, Sebastian had waited patiently for him like always. Since the day Jim had found him, the child solder, not older the seven. He had taken him in and turned him into his own but not immortal, not like Sherlock, because Sherlock was special.

* * *

 _A very long time ago …_

 _The child had seen around four or five snow falls, small for his age and a bit week but bright eyes look at the stranger that passes the family of five. A father, a mother and three children. They all were bright but only the youngest son got his attention. The bright smile the intelligent eyes and the voice that ask all the right questions._

 _Remembering the words of his creator he took his fire stone and cut into his hand, the red blood dropped onto the ground and the child looked with huge eyes at him. The stranger offered his hand to the child. Instinctly the child understands and licks up the blood like in trance after enough blood entered the child´s system the stranger takes his hand bag._

 _Until they would meet again would pass many snow falls._

* * *

 _AN: Chapter 31: Far away, in the mountains which can touch the sky_


	31. Far away, in the mountains which can tou

**Chapter 31: Far away, in the mountains which can touch the sky**

 _'Present, London – 2010, Friday'_

John looks up at the celling of his bedroom. Friday, another week is nearly over and Sherlock and him aren't closer on the secret of immortality then the week before. What should they do? He checks his block again, still no answer from the present Sherlock, maybe a new entry would help but what should he write? The Sherlock that lives now is another Sherlock then his. His Sherlock lives in the time of the second world war, at least he hopes that today's visit will be to that time. Or the break between the meetings would be too long. The last was 1936; John saw the end of the fight in the records. His beloved had lost but that wasn't so bad. Sherlock had told him that he wasn't there to win.

Deciding that it was time to get ready for work, John abdomen the look at the celling and takes a much needed shower, the nights get warmer and he should change his winter blanket to the summer one.

At the office he is greeted by a worried Molly who holds out his clothing. "Good morning John, did you ever climb a mountain?" John shakes his head for a ´no´. What does mountain climbing to do with his new mission? It was mostly to a time that was specific in time at places that everyone had heard of before but John couldn't think of something mountain climbing related that happened doing the second world war, the world had other issues at that time.

Now Molly looked more worried but she didn't tell him why. She concentrated on the clothing and ropes and hooks to fit perfectly on his belt. Probably the most efficient way to guarantee a safe trip for him in her own way. John had to smile a bit at this thought. Molly does her best to get him safe back home.

Mycroft waits for him in his usually seat, this time without a news paper but a novel, it looked strangely familiar and John decided that he must have seen it before in a book shop in an airport or a train station on one of his missions. "Mr. Watson, you will travel to Tibet today. To be exact to the place and time the origin of this book." Mycroft offered the book to John, who takes it.

 _Seven Years in Tibet_

The memory came back, he hadn't seen it in a shop, it was one of the few books his family owned as he was a child. The book became later a movie, if he remembers correctly. John had never read it, maybe because it was an adult book or just because it was his father that bought it.

* * *

 _'~1942 AD, Tibet'_

Mycroft had told him that they had put in coordinates very close to the location Sherlock should be. This very close was not very specific and as it turns out further away as John would have liked. At least he could see the village on the mountain or better the temple that covers part of it.

There was no path, to help from some modern attachment for tourist that was brought on by experts to ease the climb. John had to do it by himself and that without experience or help. At the end he was very proud of his achievement. More than a docent scratches, a deeper wound at his left arm, his feet hurt like hell and he came very close to a black eye that is only a red swelling now. Not bad for someone who hadn't had time for much mountain climbing in his youth.

Sherlock must have felt him or however his lover knows always (okay most times) that John was coming. But as the immortal sees John limping to the door he get the second worried face today. First Molly than Sherlock, not his best day. "John what happened?"

John smiled as Sherlock let his hands travel over his battled body to check for the more sever injury's. "I fell …" Sherlock lifts one of his eyebrow not believing him. "Maybe more than once." Honestly it was four times.

"Come in we will get you fixed up before you can start with your mission for today." Sherlock winked at him and pulled him through the gate. "I tried to warn the people that live with me about a stranger that come to visit but you can see at their looks that they haven't met many stranger or better white man in their life. So please ignore the looks. The people here are very peaceful. I myself am the teacher of their leader. The Dalai Lama. He is still a child but has a bright mind and I´m very proud to call myself his teacher." Sherlock walked over to one of the little houses and enters through the door that has some writing on it. "Sit down, I get the medicine and wrapping for the more deeper wounds."

John takes a seat on the carpet Sherlock had pointed at. He knows it is the year 1942 for Sherlock but something is mission. The world is right now at war and his immortal is playing teacher for … okay John stopped his thoughts before they could get ugly. Sherlock had the right to be where he wants to be and if this is here next to the leader of the Tibetan Buddhism than who was John to stop him. "Sherlock, since when are you here, you look very familiar with the people here?"

Sherlock starts to clean the scratches on John´s back, chest … his whole body before he attempt the larger one on his arm. "I arrived shortly before they make the Dalai Lama official to their leader. I think in the Christian counting it was 1939 or 40, not sure. I was climbing through the mountain as I found this place. I had enough from this world and walked through the dessert and came out on the bottom of these mountains. I like mountain since a long time. On top of them you can see the world below, they also offer lots of space and hiding places. I might have made a few enemies on my travel."

Sherlock´s look told him that it was something he didn't know better. "That's a good place to be." John felt bad for saying it like that but does he really want Sherlock to jump right into the hugest war the world had ever seen with the highest death count known till today? No Sherlock was safe here and he looked like he is enjoying his pupil and his teaching. A bit like with Anastasia, Sherlock lived long enough to be a very talented teacher of many crafts.

Sherlock finished up. "Finished. Now I can show you my home. I can't bring you to the Dalai Lama but maybe we can see him from afar. Stranger are only allowed to meet under special circumstances." John takes Sherlock´s offered hand and they walk through the village. Further climbing was put off until John had to return to HOPE. Something John wasn't happy about it.

Before they reach their destination (a watchtower form where they could see the temple the Dalai Lama lives in) they got called into a dark alley. Sherlock recocnizes the voice immidently.

"Your Holiness. What are you doing out here, without your guards. I told you I meet a friend and would return later the day." The ´boy´ there was no better way to say it was wearing beautiful red and yellow clothes and smiles cheekily at Sherlock.

"I guess meeting the Dalai Lama isn't so difficult." John had to laugh a bit as ´His Holiness´ looked amused at him.

"You are the important person my teacher speaks of?" John nods. "I´m his pupil, my name is Tenzin Gyatso, but everyone calls me Holiness.

"Your Holiness, please you have to return and finally accept that it is your title and people will call you that." Sherlock slowly pushes His Holiness and John back into the direction of the temple´s gate. John felt the uneasiness growing between the people. They must have notice the absent of their leader and start looking for him without creation panic. They were greeted by worried looking guards and agree looking elderly monks.

"Your Holiness I will return soon, I only escort my friend so he won't get hurt again." John surprised by Sherlock word that indicate a sudden end to their meeting wanted to speak against it but decided to follow Sherlock´s lead. The elderly monks doesn't look to happy about his appearance.

"Nice to meet you, Your Holiness." John said his good bye and got a little wave form the Dalai Lama, something one of the eldest monks scrolls him about. Not an easy live for a child, John doesn't envy him.

As the monks bring the child away Sherlock lead John to the gate again. "Let's talk outside. We have a bit more privacy and I will bring you to HOPE, no way I let you fall from the mountain." John smiled.

"Sounds good. Thought you want to get rid of me, but you have to keep up your appearance with the monks." Outside they sit a few meters away from the gate with a beautiful sight over the mountains of the Himalaya. "Beautiful." John says amazed and follows the peaks form one mountain to the next. The highest where hidden behind clouds.

"John you sounded amazed that I´m here, before we met the young Holiness." Of course Sherlock had notice John judging tone in his voice. John was a soldier and even if Sherlock wasn't tight to a specific country, there was a war going on. A war Sherlock had predicted, so why was he here, in the mountain?

"How many news did you get from the world while you are here as teacher?" Sherlock seem to think about something, not John´s question in particular.

"The war did come, am I right." Yes was John answer, he didn't have to say it out loud, Sherlock understood. "So I was right but left before the war came. I thought I missed something, that there wasn't another great war coming but your eyes tell me this one is far worse." Sherlock looked back at his current home. "I can't just leave, can I?"

John takes Sherlock´s hand. He likes the feeling that appears inside of him every time they touch. "There is a war and when you feel like leaving and being a part of it, it's your decision and I won't stop you. I will only ask you to be careful and let a few prints behind for me to follow, because I can't live with the thought of you being lonely again. I will never again let you go into the dark place I found you in. Understand?" The last part wasn't really a question but John had gotten more and more affected by the fear growing inside of him for Sherlock. That his love will jump right into the mess this war will leave behind.

"Of course and thank you for telling me. I know your job doesn't contain telling me about the thinks I can't know. The only thing I have to do is finding a replacement. Can't let the little trouble maker alone without a teacher that shows him how the world outside his temple works."

Sherlock helps John back to his time machine. John had his mission completed, knowing why Sherlock was at this place while a war was going on. They said their good bye and John couldn't help himself and hold Sherlock in his arms for as long as Sherlock would let him.

* * *

Sherlock returns to the temple, still thinking about the replacement as the thought of Heinrich Harre came. He was a young man, an adventurist that was looking for his next challenge. He returns to his room, packs and writes a letter that will let the man right into the heart of the mountain where the man can show his pupil a different look at the world. He will send the letter as soon as he reaches the civilisation again.

The only thing left was now leaving. Leaving this peaceful life behind, where he is accepted and can do something but when Sherlock is honest with himself, and he always is, his time in this temple was limited. He had read every piece of paper the monks owned and hadn't found anything helpful regarding his immortal problem.

Sherlock will miss the child but even this child had to learn that there were times to say good bye. Ready to leave, the immortal walks over to the last lesson he will teach his pupil.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Friday '_

While John changes back into his own clothes, after getting a checkup by a doctor for his injuries, his phone was ringing. He answered it while taking his shoes on. "Yes?" The phone was hold between his cheek and his shoulder.

"John, dear. I tried it a few times already, are you alright?" Mrs. Hudson sounds worried.

"Yes, sorry Mrs. H. I was working and I couldn't while I´m in a meeting. Just heading out. How are you?"

"Good, thanks. I actually called to invite you for tea tomorrow. I´m an old lady and a bit lonely since my tenant left. He is away for another few days. Would you mind spending a bit time with an old woman." Molly whispers next to him that he should say hello from her to Mrs. Hudson.

"You are not old and I´m really looking forward to the tea. You make the best bakery in the whole country." John could hear her blush over the phone. "Molly says ´hi´ by the way."

"She can come over too, if she wants to of course." John holds his now free hands over the speaker of the phone and asks Molly if she has time, his colleague nods. Greg was nowhere to see and John thinks there is a date going on at Saturday anyway.

"Molly is happy to come over for tea too. See you tomorrow." John ended the phone call and gets ready to leave. On the table Mycroft had set in the morning was still the novel waiting and as if it was calling him, John picked it up and takes it home with him. He would write his report and read it afterwards. The man who wrote it was the replacement Sherlock had chosen as a teacher for the young Dalai Lama.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Saturday '_

The smile that appears on Mrs. Hudson´s face as she opens the door was pure gold. He had notice that the elderly lady became lonely, now that her tenant was gone to rehab. He hopes the man, William Holmes would come back soon, health again. She closes her arms around John and Molly to give them both a very warm welcome hug.

Over the afternoon, more than one pot of tea and an amount of cookies, you have to be embarrassed about John enjoys his time with both women. The conversation shifted very fast to clothing (Molly´s favorite subject and Mrs. Hudson share a few of her family secrets. Her grandmother was a talented dressmaker.

Listening about underwear of the twenties century was a bit not his cup of tea but the agent relaxes in the kitchen of Baker Street. These two, Greg and in a way Mycroft were his family. They had become close over a short period of time. He likes when Mrs. Hudson goes all mother hen on him and Molly does the worried big sister thing. He finally could enjoy the company of other people without looking over his shoulder every second on a mission. He was more free then he had ever been since he had signed up to work for the government.

Maybe he should think about a change of profession after he found a solution for the immortal problem and of course finding Sherlock in the present. All problems for another day decided Mrs. Hudson as she offered him another chocolate chip cookie.

* * *

Greg was nervous, more nervous than ever before in his life. Mycroft was on his way to their first date at his place. He had cleaned and tidied the whole flat since the early hours of the morning as he had given up on sleeping. His place hadn't been that clean since his mother came to visit and that was a long time ago.

The flat was sparkling and the dinner was nearly done the only thing that was missing was Mycroft himself and the courage Greg needs to ask him an important question. But his courage had gone mission together with his self-confidence. They hide somewhere together and he hopes they come back at the right moment.

The ring at the door bell pulls Greg out of his seven check on his to-do-list. Now it was too late to change something again. He walks over to the door, takes another deep breath and opens it. Mycroft was standing in the soft evening light, holding a bottle of wine and wearing one of his more casual outfits. "Good evening Gregory. Thank you for inviting me for dinner." Mycroft enters the flat and Greg watches a smile growing on his face. "It smells very delicious." His visitor lends down and whispers into his ear. "The excess of tidying was unnecessary but gets appreciated." A kiss lands on Greg´s cheek and he blushed.

"I was just making sure you like it here. This is still a bachelor flat if you think about it." And there it is the elephant in the room. Greg´s big question, are they really in a relationship?

Mycroft lifts an eye brown about this comment, his eyes travel up and down Greg´s body. Suddenly the man turn and walks into the kitchen. He turns off the stove, places the wine on the table and returns to a wary host. "Gregory Lestrade, you are not a bachelor, you and I we belong together and I will use this evening to silent every voice of doubt in your brain. Believe me when I´m finished with you your mind won´t be able to think a full sentence."

The man was done talking; steps right into Greg´s personal space and attacks his lips with an intensity that he hadn't felt since he was a horny teen. His answer was nearly imminently. "Bedroom is the last on the right." Greg is able to say between kisses and Mycroft new working area his neck.

Before they reach the bedroom door both men lost more than one piece of clothing. "Last chance, the change your mind." Mycroft purred into his ear, what gets eaten the next second. No Greg had no objection. He pulls his boss into his bedroom. He was done with talking too.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Sunday '_

Sally Donavan wasn't happy with her new boss. She had contacted him to destroy Mycroft Holmes and the whole operation but instead the man was now working for him and that makes her sick. She wants Mycroft Holmes as burned as he left her for looking deeper in the private life of the man.

She was standing right in front of the man. He looked angry himself, not with her but something must have happened because the mood was up and down, changing every minute. That ´something´ must have been sometimes before the weekend. Friday, did it start if she remembers correctly. Of course he was in a bad mood when she starts to question his doing but never had she thought that something like that happened.

"So Miss Donavan, did I get it right? You are not happy with my working process and question my ability to do what is necessary to get to the destination you dream of." Sally nods, suddenly feeling the temperature in the room fall and understanding that poking a dangerous animal wasn't a good idea. "You know, I have already decided that I didn't need you. Honestly I wasn't interested in your case to the begin of. The only think I´m interested in is Sherlock." Her eyes grow big. She had never told the man about the immortal and the time travel thing. "You see I met him again on Thursday but he wasn't as I expected. Worst of he didn't remember me as his kind. It was very … disappointing."

Sherlock was here? But the thought was taken away as he suddenly feels a shadow behind her. Before she could move appear two big hands and close around her neck. She feels the pain from the pressure and the panic rising in her body as the air can´t reach her lungs anymore. Effortless was her body lifted up by the hands. All struggling wasn't helping and black spots appear in her field of vision. The last thing Sally was seeing is the evil grim from James Moriarty who orders his ´pet´ to finish her off.

"Good job, Seb. Now do me a favor and get rid of it. Preferable somewhere where it get the attention from people we would like to notice." Sebastian Moran nod, he always knows what his boss wants. Disposed body behind the office it is. Smiling he lifts the lifeless body up and throw her over his shoulder. Whistling he walked out of the room.


	32. Every life counts

**Chapter 32: Every life counts**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Greg was happy, happier than ever before in his life as far as he remembers, the honeymoon phase. The Saturday dinner ended in a whole weekend of shared time together. He had to say that Mycroft is a very considerate lover. Greg blushed again as he thought about their first time. It wasn't helping that the man in question was sitting right next to him.

A car had picked them up at Greg's place after a delicious breakfast with shared kisses and food. The food was only the second in order. The had spent Saturday in bed. On Sunday morning they had achieved to leave the bedroom for a walk in the park behind Greg's house. They picked up a light lunch and shared dessert in bed, chocolate chip ice cream.

Mycroft had shown him that this relationship was something serious for both of them, not only for Greg who had to say that his insecure behavior was a bit embarrassing. But his very talented lover had chased away this thought. Greg feels safe and loved and that's the important thing.

The phone was ringing again. Mycroft had turned it off for the weekend and it appears as if the world was collapsing. At least his coworkers were acting like it. Mycroft let go of his hand with an apologizing look and answers the call. Anthea, his assistant was in the car and after the first shock Greg enjoys the feeling of being seen together.

Mycroft points in a laptop that sits next to her, she gives it to him and he works with one hand on it. Typing fast something down while talking in the phone in three different language with the guy on the other end. Greg feels proud of his boyfriend who was gifted with many talents.

* * *

 _The ice cream was cold, very cold on his overheated skin. Slowly the next spoon full of chocolate flavored dream touches his belly. It starts to melt but before the bed sheet could be ruined a wet hot tongue licks the line of melted cream of Greg's skin. A shiver runs through his body it wasn't because of the cold._

 _The next spoon was filled and mouth-feeded by Mycroft who had managed to stay clean. The sneaky smile was something new and it turned him on more than he had thought was possible. Mycroft knew it and continues his slow torture. They had a lot of ice cream left._

* * *

Greg's cheeks became a shade of red as he thought about the dessert they had shared. Not helping, he tells his brain. Mycroft looks up and the sneaky smile appears again. He knows Greg's thought. Without a comment Mycroft continues his phone conference.

As they arrive at the office they had to go separate ways. Mycroft and Anthea had to go to a meeting and Greg had to finish his check up on HOPE.

* * *

John arrives at the office and finds a very happy Greg at work. Secretly smiling about the obvious successful date he turns to get changed. And stops dead in his place.

Molly was holding a Nazi uniform up for him and looked apologizing at him. "I'm not going as a Nazi soldier." John was already turning as Molly holds him back. "Don't worry Sherlock is not part of it but it is the best thing you can wear where you are going.

Not happy about wearing it but taking it as a lesser evil John changes into the uniform, he misses his own, that he had worn many years before. Thinking about his missions before this wasn't the first time he was wearing the uniform of another nation.

As John was finished Mycroft appears, he looked busy and in a hurry. John walks over and get himself ready to do something stupid. "Sir, I have a request." Mycroft looks up from his phone and waits. Taking it as a clue to continue John speaks up again. "I looking for a way to get rid of Sherlock's immortality or become immortal myself. Sherlock can't remember and when the time comes that we meet in the presence I want to be ready, whatever we decide to do."

John waits for the reaction or worst case some kind of punishment but it didn't come. "I will help with the research and tell you imminently when I find something." John started at his boss with an open mouth. "But first you have to go on one of the more dangerous missions. As you can see from the uniform you are wearing your destination will be in Nazi Germany at the year 1944 or better at the Border to Poland. Sherlock is wearing the same uniform but he is smuggling Jews across the border. Have a look at his work." John nods and climbs into HOPE, Greg was sharing a lovesick look with Mycroft before John closes the door and starts his mission.

* * *

 _'~1944 AD, Poland, Germany'_

The winter was coming and the east wind brings cold air. Sherlock was freezing and his followers weren't better. At least the uniform he was wearing offered a bit of protection and warmth.

His group was counting eleven people. An elderly couple, a family of five, three young man and a woman around twenty five. These people were his responsibility. The groups always change; Sherlock brings them across the border and returns to get another. Most of them were a bit weary when they see the uniform but after explaining that it's the best way to get them across most trust him enough to play along and the other ... that are the ones that he can't get across.

Today's transport was one of the more dangerous and complicated ones. The soldiers Sherlock had to pass were more on guard and no one was trusting him. Sherlock's plan with bringing the Jewish across as prisoner's wasn't working this time.

While waiting for the sun to rise Sherlock feels him, John was coming. He loves the feeling when the air changes and even in the darkest days appears a light. A light with the name of John Watson. Sherlock closes his hand around the dog tags, nervous about John's reaction to the uniform but also excited to finally see him again.

The breaks between the meetings became shorter but his desire grow every time. Suddenly the elderly woman next to him touched him in his shoulder. "Who is the lucky one you are thinking of?" Most of them were walking quietly behind him but she must have watched him to notice the change, not sure what she will think about the relationship of two men but then not caring he showed her the tags.

"He is the love of my life and he will come to us soon. I haven't seen him in three years and I miss him more as when it was two hundred years." She gives the tags back and looked at her silent husband.

"Three years, I can't imagine the pain you must be feeling, longing and the desperation." She closes her hand around his and presses it for a minute before they return back to the thinks they were doing.

* * *

John walks through the bushes and died wood. It appears as if the war was bad for nature too. He hopes Sherlock would feel again that he was coming before he was treated as an enemy. But every bit of his concern was washed away as he hears running, gunfire and crying children.

Changing his direction to hide behind a group of trees was the first reaction John could get out of his legs. Better to surveillance the situation first, get information and then act. The first runners were three young men, followed by a woman, a family and an elderly couple. At last appears a German soldier who was fighting off other German soldier and then John recognizes Sherlock. Without thinking he runs to the group of people, obviously Sherlock's charge. They freeze as they see him in his uniform; John needs to get them to safety.

"Follow me, I'm a friend of Sherlock. You need to get out of here." They weren't moving.

The elderly man steps in front of his wife. "Why should we trust you?" Good question, what could he offer them?

"John Watson?" The elderly lady had stepped out of her husband's protection. John nods surprised that she knew his name. "Darling he is Sherlock's friend we can trust him." Suddenly the air around the group changes from suspicions to needing.

"Follow me." John says and turns to follow the way back he came, he had found a cave not far and as long as the enemy was out of sight they would be safe there. Sherlock would follow. The group, most likely Jew fugitives on the run stays close to John without further question his appearance or timing.

They enter the forest and pass the same dead wood and bushes John had in his way towards Sherlock. Hidden between two trees they find the entrance and enter. "You will be safe in here. Don't go away before Sherlock or I return." John gets nodding. Enough to satisfied his worry and hurries back.

Yes, his first thought had been to stay and protect but he had no weapon or anything else for self-defense. The group was as safe as you can be in a country nearly everyone hunts you but when he helps Sherlock they would be two against them, John can help when Sherlock let him.

* * *

The gun fire had disappeared as John came around the corner. Sherlock stands over five unconscious men in uniform. Armed but not as dangoures as before. Sherlock looks up and in his dirty, bloody face appears a smile, he must have kept for this moment. John runs towards him and they fall into each other's arms. John could feel how the wet spots from Sherlock body travel to his clothes. Sherlock was shot and bleeds freely but he seems fine. As a partly trained medical John had to intervene. "Sherlock you are bleeding let me have a look."

"You can but first we have to get out of here, where did you lead the group of people that were with me?" Sherlock ask and John is already pulling him in the right direction. As sooner they arrive John can tend to Sherlock injuries.

"Good that you came. Can't have any losses, prisoners or dead ones." Sherlock smiled at him again and lays his arm over John's shoulder. Enjoying the body contact but also aware of the situation John hurries and find the group exactly where he had left them. They were glad to see them back, John realizes that Sherlock and now him were their only way to survive this war. The worst is yet to come.

"Sherlock you are alright." He was greeted by the group. He nods but let himself be pulled to a corner of the cave by John.

"Is it enough to get the bullets out? Or do I have to sew them up?" John asks and gets finally the attention to the important thing right now.

"Take the bullets out, I will heal up quickly." Sherlock answers. John starts to work on the howls his friend was so covered in with a first aid kit that looks like it comes out of the first world war. Silent tears fell down from John's eyes with every bullet he bulls out of Sherlock, who thankfully didn't comment on it.

The group keeps quiet, even the children. Children shouldn't be as quiet as they are. They had to learn to be like this. "Don't worry John. Children like this will grow up to be strong. They will surpass it all and come out at the end as independent, strong and aware of the world. I have seen children like this grow up. They are strong, trust me."

Sherlock was fixed as good as you can expect. The group looked expecting up to them. Two man in the uniform of the enemy. "We lost time but we are all still alive and that's what counts. We will continue our way, John will help after we crossed the border you will be welcomed by one of my contacts. He will bring you to safety. I will return with John and bring over the next group."

The people in the cave got ready and follow Sherlock silently. Like before the group stays close together, as soon as they came closer to the border Sherlock pointed to a small hidden side road, John hold back a bunch and Sherlock lead them further.

The border they reached wasn't guarded and it looked like it was more like a moor. "Everyone follows my exact footsteps, not one centimeter aside. Understand! The adults have to carry the children, John you will have to take one." Everyone follows Sherlock's instructions. The group was slow and it took them nearly two hours to cross. They were all tired but with the middle of the moor they had passes the border and were safe. They could see someone waiting for them at the end. Exhausted and happy to finally reach the destination. Sherlock gives over the group and leaves without big good byes.

Later he tells John that he doesn't want their thanks. He had done nothing in the years before as he was the teacher for the young Dalai Lama. He wants to save as much as possible. After they passed the moor John and Sherlock hold hands until they reach HOPE.

"A suitable name for something that will brings me joy." Sherlock smiled. "I have to return. Many lives to safe."

This war is nearly over, Sherlock. Don't give up hope." Where John´s last words to Sherlock. Another year, it doesn't long but it was one of the worst. John wonders where and when he will meet his beautiful, haunted lover again.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Edward James Hastings was an honest young man. He loves the simple things in live, like afternoon tea with the little pasties from the bakery around the corner or horse riding. Hours over hours nothing between him, his horse and the world. His grandmother always said that his Texas roots would shout out, his great grandfather hat married an English lady and followed her back into the old world.

Now with twenty eight, Edward was proud part of the government system by writing documents. Not the most exciting position but he was a helpful part of something bigger then himself. Nothing that he was taught could have prepared him for that what he will find in the alley behind his work place.

A body was hanging down from a fire escape, how it hadn't been notice before was a question to be answered later. The body belonged to a black, female person and after looking at her again Edward recognizes her. She had worked for the government too. A different department but no one had forgotten the day she got fired. The only reason he remembers her all.

Edward takes his phone out and calls an emergency number every one that works in this building got. "Edward James Hastings speaking. At my position is a body of a former co-worker a message for Mr. Mycroft Holmes is pinned at it." At the other end was only static sounds as he was connected with the right person.

"Please read the message." The voice at the other end demands.

"To Mycroft Holmes: don't mess with immortality. That's all, oh and it's written in something that looks like blood." The man at the other end thanked him and asked him to stay until a team for the investigation would arrive.

That will be a long evening, things Edward.

* * *

Mycroft ended the conversation. This wasn't a message from Sherlock but someone else. Someone who does want both of their attentions. And with the murder of Sally Donavan, he got it, whoever the other immortal is. At least he can help John official with the research about immortality.


	33. Men worst weapons

**Chapter 33: Men worst weapons**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

John was looking right into the doctors eyes to make sure he had understood correctly what he wants him to do. With a side look to Mycroft he confirmed that yes he has to take the jod and yes he was going to a nuclear poisoned area.

Without further question John takes the pills and goes over to Molly for changing his clothes. He has a bad feeling about the whole thing but when it gives him the chance to meet Sherlock he would do anything. Maybe he should work on his self-preventing status but right now his priorities are poled towards someone else then his safety.

Mycroft wasn't happy about it. Radiation was something he couldn't stop or prevent. He sends his agent inside an active zone of danger and slowly working death. He could call the whole thing off because that would change the time line and Sherlock isn't very open how important this meeting is. Most likely are all very important in their own way.

Mycroft swallowed as he looked over to Greg. He want to kiss the man every single second of their time. Just being in the same room was perfect. He can understand that John is going but Mycroft doesn't have to like it.

"Mr. Watson, last change, you can say no to this mission no one would think badly about it." Of course John shakes his head for a no. "Alright, we found proof of someone helping many people directly after the bomb exploded above Hiroshima. Find out why Sherlock is in Japan again and don't stay to long. Find him ask and leave."

"Yes sir." John disappears and starts his mission with HOPE.

* * *

 _'1945 AD, Hiroshima, Japan'_

Sherlock sees it, sees the bomb fall. It explodes mid fall to the ground. He was close and the air felt different, he had seen many of the bombs fall over the last years. This one brings a different kind of danger. He was close, too close, Sherlock sees the mushroom shaped cloud, feels the heat and how his skin melts off.

As he comes back everything is quiet except the flames that eat at the wooden buildings. His clothes were destroyed but it was enough left to wear it like a toga. Around his hip the biggest piece of fabric and some of the smaller pieces knotted at one of his shoulder.

Slowly Sherlock begins to walk through the burning buildings. He was right this was some kind of new weapon. Mankind had invented something deadly again. Great ... Sarcasms wasn't helping but like so many times before Sherlock was very disappointed in people in general. This war was showing the worst of the worst against life.

His peace offering, Sherlock had planned since weeks had to wait. When he looks around he doubt that japan would continue this fight. They had already thrown their young soldier as suicide bombs into the ships of their enemy's. Now a whole city was destroyed.

Suddenly Sherlock hears a small voice calling for help. The immortal runs to a burning building. The voice belonged to a young man and came from inside it. Sherlock had to help these people. He had the benefits of immortality; he was healed again but not them. They need him.

* * *

For one second John thought everything was like always but before he can open HOPEs door a blast hit it and throws the whole machine against a wall. Later John will be glad that he hadn't opened the door before because it was the only thing that had kept him alive.

As John became aware of his surrounding again he notices the smoke that came from one of his control panels. He hits the emergency exit bottom and leaves the capsule in a hurry.

John looked at his time machine and doubt that thing would do his job in its condition. Deciding that he had to continue his mission first he locked the door and tries to find his way. The buildings were burning and the sun was hidden behind thick black smoke clouds. Taking the next road that looks the safest John begins to walk.

On the way John finds an old couple they were resting in the ground. He walks over to them and find two small children with them. They look unharmed but covered in ash and dirt. "Hello can I help you?" John hopes he can so something for them.

"Thank you young man, my wife hurt her leg a few meters back. We were on our way out of the city but we can't go further like this." The old man answered.

"I'm a doctor. Let me have a look." John kneels down and looks at the woman's food. It doesn't look to bad but due to her age it would be impossible to walk for her without treatment.

John takes a few sticks he finds around them and takes off one of the shirts he is wearing. The agent, now acting like a doctor, builds a construction for the foot that would hold it in place, makes it stable and would allowed the woman to walk.

"Okay, you should be able to help you walk. Go slowly and let your husband hold you." The husband and John help her up. She steps carefully on her foot and is amazed that she would be able to walk.

"Thank you Sensei." She says and they began to walk again. The children follow them. John was surprised that she had called him sensei. This is the word for doctor or teacher or anything that has the position of a master in something but he had thought that the Japanese were against calling a stranger like that.

* * *

Sherlock runs right into John. Surprised and happy to see him he was also worried because this bomb had release something deadly. John had to go and that as soon as possible. "John." His lover turns around. "You have to leave this is too dangerous for you. I can't let you die here."

John didn't care what Sherlock just said he hugs him and feels the naked skin on his own. The tags we're still there. "I can't, HOPE got damage as I arrived." Sherlock takes the warmth from their hug and saved this memory like every other one from John in his mind palace.

"Show me, we need to fix it. There was a bomb and she does something to us." Sherlock takes John´s hand and they walk back to HOPE.

"I know." Whispers John, hoping Sherlock would be safe. And he can only leave when they get a complicated and complex system to work again.

* * *

They work together, first getting the machine out from under the pieces of a collapsed building. The instruction book was still inside and Sherlock starts to read out loud what had to work while John checks it.

They found more than one very important part they had to be fix and started with everything they can do. It takes them many hours but at the end they had HOPE in a condition that wouldn't kill John and bring him home. They had worked between the flames and destruction.

"So you want me to go back again without really doing something?" John questions as he had put the manual back where it came from.

"Yes John we will meet again at a place where the air isn't poisoned." Sherlock wipes a bit dirt from John's cheek, it wasn't helping his hands were dirty too but the contact was giving them both something to hold on.

With a bit more noises and a light show John worries but ignores, HOPE takes him away from his love and hopefully back to where he came from.

* * *

Sherlock continues his search for survivor. He found three children, alive and unharmed under a collapsed building. They were trapped and the flames were coming closer with every second.

With a last look at the end of the road where he had seen John the last time, Sherlock starts to pull away wood and stone to get to the children.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Mycroft knew something went wrong as they couldn't connect the radio with HOPE. John was already gone for three hours. He shouldn't stay that long, as Moriarty offered to call. Maybe John had a problem or something like that. But they couldn't get a connection.

Now seven hours into the mission Mycroft calls in the team of doctors. They would have to check John for radiation poisoning. The doctors were waiting in a separate room so they wouldn't see the time machine arrive. They only knew the reason for their being here.

As the boss he could send them all home but Mycroft told it only to Molly and Moriarty. They left but Molly asks Greg to write her as soon as John was back. Mycroft only offered Greg to go home, not ordered it. In hope that he would wait with him. And Greg stayed. He told Mycroft to put his offer back where the sun is never shining. "Mycroft as if I would let you alone. John is also a friend and HOPE is my responsibility. When something is wrong with it, I have to know it." They could get her back but without knowing that John was inside the capsule they would do this only after 72 hours.

Both man were sitting close by the place John should appear with HOPE. Their shoulders touch lightly as the light appears and HOPE more crushes then landed in the middle of the room.

The time machine looked awful. Part of the outside layer was missing. The parts that were still their were scratched, rusty and dirty. Part of the engine was smoking and John nearly jumped out of it.

Mycroft and Greg were waking up from their shock and run over to John. He was just sitting there and looking at them.

"What happened?" Greg was the first. "What did you do to her?" Yes, for Greg was the time machine with the name HOPE a she and important.

"Just landed in the middle of a nuclear explosion. Next time a bit later would be nice. Took Sherlock and me five hours to fix it up as much as that it would fly me back safely." John counters but they could see the relieve in his face that he got back.

Mycroft now more worried about John then the time machine called in the doctors. "Please no Mycroft. I want a shower and a quiet evening at home." But Mycroft wasn't listening.

John was helped up on his feet and brought to a waiting ambulance. The doctors were already asking him question, measuring blood pressure and taking blood samples.

"I will start to fix her up." Grag calls behind them. Mycroft was following John to the hospital. He knows that Greg wouldn't come home until he is done with HOPE. Because John should have arrived two hours after the explosion. Something wasn't working right but he wasn't sure if someone had done something to the machine. Someone like the man that poisoned Anderson.

"I will be back soon." Mycroft calls behind. He would spend the time with Greg, even when he only can watch him. That would be enough.


	34. Europe, rebuilt a continent

**Chapter 34: Europe, rebuilt a continent**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Mycroft walks down the endless halls at St. Bart's morgue to meet with the pathologist that had Sally Donavan's body on his table. It was an older man. He wears glasses and his lab coat has a few spots at the left side of his leg.

Sadly Mycroft feels nearly nothing about her death. He knows he should but she had risk the whole mission and the future of this country with her actions. Sherlock had once told him that without John he would have given up a long time ago. No trying to help people, no peace searching and communicating between fighting nations and no inventions. Mycroft understand what the immortal was telling him. The Jack the Ripper incident would have happened earlier and Sherlock would have continued with his work.

The pathologist told him what Mycroft already suspected. No evidence, no lead, nothing that could help to find out who did it.

The best way to operate would be getting Sherlock involved but Mycroft doesn't want the immortal to worry. He has his own problems.

Another problem is John's long stay in Hiroshima. Something or someone was messing with him, his team and his operation. The police wouldn't help them. The case would end up cold and in a pile with all the others.

* * *

John was more than a bit unpleased. They had held him in the hospital overnight. The doctors took blood every two hour, ask him questions and measure everything John had ever heard off and more. After he had to pee into a jaw the second time around three in the morning John told them all to piss off. He was tired and he would like to sleep now.

They let him until six in the morning. Then everything begun again until John was released. The results would take a bit of time. John didn't care he just wanted to leave and meet Sherlock.

Due to his hospital stay John was late for work, again. He never had been late in any of his previews jobs and in this one it´s the second time. But John wasn't the last one to arrive. Greg was still busy with HOPE and John doubt that he had time to fix everything doing one night and Molly was only asking questions about what the doctors said.

"Where is Mycroft?" John asks to stop Molly's questioning. Greg appears behind him with a towel in his hand, wiping oil and other liquids from his hands.

"He had left earlier someone called. He told me to get ready. I think you are going on a mission." Greg was finish cleaning his hands. "HOPE is ready."

Both Molly and John were looking at him. "You finished fixing her in one night?" Greg nods.

"John you should get ready." Surprised by Greg's authority Molly hurries to get the clothes for today's mission and John walks over to the changing area and starts getting undressed.

Mycroft arrives a few minutes after everyone was ready. John had looked over HOPE, not that he had doubt in Greg's work it just felt as if someone else had his fingers on it. But he hadn't time left to worry.

"I apologize for my delay. I had to go to the morgue. I want to inform you that Sally Donavan's body was found Monday evening behind this building. She was murdered. If you have any information, please share them with me. If not we will continue with our mission. Agent, are you ready?"

John stills, a bit in shock but nods and steps closer to Mycroft. "You will visit Sherlock in Washington DC where he is on the way to meet president Truman. You will act as his bodyguard and surveillance the conversation." He nods and turns to HOPE. Ready to fly back in time, meeting a president of the USA and Sherlock.

* * *

 _'~1948 AD, Great Britain'_

After working for two years non-stop, rebuilding the destroyed Europa Sherlock had finally understood that this wasn't the last war. The root for the next one was already born. The only way to prevent it, is to talk to the people that will start it. In this case, the president of the USA. That's the reason Sherlock was sitting in this bloody awful machine that is called plane on the way to Washington DC to talk to the man. If he will survive this flight Sherlock will talk sense into the man. But after the last war Sherlock isn't sure mankind had earned being protected and saved. Sadly most times it is the innocent that suffers and dies in a war. Not the man that started and want it.

As Sherlock's plane set foot onto the continent he is surprised to feel John close to him. With his suitcase in his hand leaves Sherlock the airport and finds John waiting for him with a sign.

"Sir, your car is waiting. They smile both but stay in character.

"Thank you. I presume you are the driver/bodyguard I ordered for the meeting with the president?"

"Yes sir, that would be me." John opens Sherlock the door before he sits behind the wheel. They share look and both have to laugh.

"John, where did you get the car from?" John looked innocent into the mirror.

"Borrowed." A grim appears in John's face as he starts the engine and drives them directly to the White House.

While they drove Sherlock decided he wanted to sit in the front and climbs to the seat from the back. "We could have stopped, you know." Grumbles John but accepted the kiss with and answers it with the burning intensity he had felt for days.

A car honked behind them and John had to continue the drive. They had missed the green traffic light. Sherlock's hand found a good place and rests in John's tights. Before they arrive Sherlock had to sit in the back again. He had to look as official as possible.

* * *

Coming inside the White House was easier then thought but Sherlock's consultant status for international questions was helping a lot, especially as they didn't want to let John inside. They had an appointment and the president was waiting for them. John possessions himself at the wall from where he can see every entries, playing his bodyguard cover more than a bit convincing.

Sherlock and Truman start their conversation with light small talk like it was supposed to be. They had to get to know each other for the later in more heavy topics.

Sherlock starts these topics by explaining that the next war has already begun. The world is in some kind of bubble that could explode every second. He had seen the destruction one atomic bomb could do and the next war would be the one that could destroy the whole planet. If this war is going to happen, then it would be unimportant who started or who wins. There would be nothing left to live and celebrate the victory.

John listens to Sherlock's monologue, the only thing that he wants is a world without war and the destruction of all nuclear weapon. Sadly John can imagine how this conversation will end.

President Truman was also listening but claims as Sherlock had ended that he isn't in the position to share the future plans of this nation with him. There is no war coming, this sentence was used more than once. He might be right. Maybe they hadn't start planning it jet and Sherlock was to fast but this wasn't helping Sherlock's mission.

As the time for the conversation was over Sherlock had resigned there was no helping for them. Sherlock follows John out of the room and back to the car. This time Sherlock stays in the back, thinking about another solution but coming back empty.

"Are you disappointed in mankind?" John suddenly questions. Was he?

Sherlock wasn't sure if his doing was helping or not. He just wanted a place to live in peace with John. John doesn't get an answer, it's all he needs to know. He himself is disappointed in mankind and himself sometimes but getting it from Sherlock the immortal that had seen the rise and fall great nations it was a bit more real.

Their good bye was clouded with a cold John didn't like but he had to return. He was tired and maybe next time would be under a better star. Not that there was much hope left.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Jim was the only one left as John arrives. The other had gone home. John changes into his clothes. He was still thinking about Sherlock's lost course in trying to end a war before it had even begun and also the disappointed he was feeling. It was like he had lost Sherlock for something he didn't have cursed.

It was late, after nearly no sleep the day before John just accepted the offer from Jim to give him a ride. John wasn't thinking, he couldn't change anything that is going to happen and the bad feeling he always has around Jim was silenced by his wish for sleep.


	35. When a man goes to war

**Chapter 35: When a man goes to war**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Sherlock's first dream was like many before, of one of his many memory's that visit him time to time. Most of them are welcome. They are about happy places and times when the immortal feels like he was one of them. Times he was free to be himself for a short while. His dream was about Louis, the young man he met shortly after his meeting with President Truman went so terrible wrong. Louis was a farmer boy and on his way back as he picked up Sherlock as a tramper. Sherlock was just looking for a place with less people, less noises and less ignorance.

Louis told him all about their farm, he just turned eighteen and his parents gave him the truck for his first shopping tour in the big city. Of course he had a list but that's okay, he told Sherlock, doing the shopping alone was good enough.

At the end Louis invites him for dinner and his parents welcome him with open arms. It ends with Sherlock staying longer then he wanted and helping out at the farm. The father, Thomas broke a leg just the day before Louis and Sherlock arrived. His help was very welcome and Sherlock did a decent job. They hire him and most days Louis and Sherlock work together hand in hand from the moment the sun was rising until the first stars appear. Sherlock liked his simple life on this farm, he hadn't forget about the world, another war and John but it was like a short vacation, one Sherlock had needed without knowing it.

* * *

The second dream was something new; it wasn't as detailed as his usual dreams more as if you would look through a milky window. He could see people and somehow Sherlock knows that this were his parents and siblings. He had two, one older brother and one younger sister. They were playing together between lessons from their parents in the craft of surviving.

A stranger came to visit and was allowed to stay; he helped father with the hunting and showed us boys a new way to build a trap. But the stranger was something special, someone not like them. He didn't show fear when he should and he couldn't understand pain. He looked often bored and Sherlock knows that this feeling is horrible so he tries to get him to play and help with his work and slowly the stranger grows closer to Sherlock.

Until the day with the blood came.

The hand the stranger offered him was filled with his own blood and some instinct inside of him told Sherlock to drink. The stranger is offering something special and Sherlock was ready to take it. Even when he doesn't really understand what it is, he wants to know so he drinks until his big brother came. He pulls Sherlock away and shouts at the stranger until his parents are coming and chasing the stranger away. His mother holds him tight while father questions his brother what the stranger did to Sherlock.

After a few winters they didn't talk about the incident anymore, it was like they all had forgotten that the stranger exist. Sherlock hadn't because with the age he understands the gift the stranger had given him. He looks at his family, the growing child of his brother and knows he will be there long after this child had died of old age.

One day Sherlock was at the cliffs were the stranger had given him his blood as suddenly someone pushed him. As he falls Sherlock turns to get a look at the person and sees the stranger standing at the edge, looking down at him with a smile. The world turns black and everything was gone until he can open his eyes again. His body was fine no scratch, his clothes are bloody and in pieces but Sherlock was fine.

His first death.

Sherlock climbs up the cliff and returns to his family. He looks in the refection at the lake to see the face that will stay his own for the rest of time. He liked what he sees. His family wasn't as understanding as Sherlock had hoped for, they told him he was like the stranger and had no right to stay. Sherlock left without a thought back. This is a new live, one where he didn't have to worry about finding a companion and getting children like his sibling. No, now Sherlock was free to see the world.

* * *

Sherlock wakes up, confused about what he had seen. His family is just a blurry image but the face of the stranger, he had seen it clear as the man had pushed him down the cliff. James Moriarty, he was really his creator and Sherlock had followed him voluntary.

"You remember?" Sherlock nearly jumps out of his bed. The stranger, Jim was in his room watching him from the same spot Sherlock had stayed at his last visit. "Don't look like that; I thought surprise and fear were long gone out of your system." An evil grim appears again.

"What do you want?" Sherlock was tired and after the dream he had, he would like to kill the man but knows how useless it is.

"Just came from your pet. He was tired and they let him alone with me. Did no one tell him not to go with strangers?" Sherlock jumps up and had Jim faster pressed against the wall with his hands around the neck then he could blink.

"What did you do to him?" Sherlock grows into Jim's ears while his hand begins to close tighter.

"Nothing just brought him home and left. Wanted to make sure he comes home safely." Sherlock doesn't believe him. "I know he is important to you. I wouldn't make you angry at me. It's very exhausting to fight with another immortal, believe me." Sherlock didn't let go of the other immortal but didn't tight the grip.

"What do you want from me?" Sherlock finally ask. He wants the man gone.

"I want to spend the eternal life we are having together. That's the reason I made you like this. You were interesting and you understood that boredom is the only thing that can really kill us." Jim pulls slowly Sherlock's fingers away while the man was working through the shock.

"You want what?" Sherlock nearly spitted out.

"I want to be together with you, forever. The reason why I made you immortal. All the years I was looking for you, to find you. You disappointed me a bit. I hadn't thought you would always look for the connection to the simple humans and I don't think I will ever get the thing you have going on with Johnny boy but that's not important. He is just a part of your life that will vanish with a blink of time. We, can rule the world, destroy it when it doesn't suit us and create a new one." Jim feels generous with his offer. He had never done it before. It was something new. New was good.

"You think I will go with you and what destroy the world I try to protect. No thank you. You will be alone in this mission." Sherlock returns to his bed the conversation was finished from his side.

"You will change your mind one day you will get bored and fed up with this world and then you will come and find me. I can wait, I have time but don't let me wait too long or I will start without you." Jim leaves and let a pissed of Sherlock behind.

While Sherlock tries to calm down he thinks about something positive, something that will make the storm in his mind stop. What was today's mission?

His first dream came to his mind. Another war, another offer he couldn't accept and John who thought Sherlock was mad at him for being a human.

* * *

 _'~1955 AD, Vietnam'_

Louis McLoyed was walking in front of him. Sherlock is watching his back since the morning as they started to walk through the jungle. He should have stayed out of it. He shouldn't have followed this man into war but in the end he had no choice. War or losing him forever because Sherlock had already reached the maximum of time he can stay at one place. His parents have begun to wonder why Sherlock never talks about his past or where his parents are.

With Louis joining, Sherlock had an excuse to leave and a chance to stay a bit longer with him. Louis was special and Sherlock hadn't found out what it was. Louis too told Sherlock more than once that they had a special connection.

As they arrive at their night camp they shared the first shift on the watch out. They set close together in the still warm air of the Vietcong. Louis seems nervous and Sherlock tries to find out why, he hadn't thought that a love confession would follow or Sherlock hadn't ask because now he had to break someone's heart.

Sherlock was not very confident or experienced with the whole love thing, except for John, no one had never ever someone touched his heart like this. How do you tell someone who you like but in a different way that you already belong to someone else?

"I'm sorry Louis, I'm grateful for your feelings. I will treasure them but my heart belongs to someone. And it's not because we are both man, I know this took a lot of courage out of you. The person I love is also a man. I hope you understand."

"Is he the one you always thinking of?" Sherlock nods. "Then you are truly taken." They continue their watch like nothing happened. Sherlock knows now about Louis feeling but that wouldn't change anything they had come across more difficult challenges over the year. Something like that won't destroy their friendship.

The next morning should have been like every other morning. They wake up, quick wash and breakfast, packing and leaving. But Sherlock wakes up and feels John and that changes everything, he is wearing the same uniform as them, undercover as a fellow soldier their commandant welcomed him. They talk for a few minutes before they have to walk again.

John let himself fall back slowly talking with one or two other soldiers before he reaches Sherlock. They can't show any kind of affection and it nearly hurts physically. He was here to ask how Sherlock ended up in this unit, part of a war he wanted to stop. The immortal nods towards Louis and tells him that it was the only change to be close to him for a bit longer. John understands, he always does. John has to go back or HOPE would be discovered. They say their good bye and John leaves again.

"It is him right?" Louis suddenly asks as John had left. I can see the love in both of your eyes. How you wanted to hold or just touch each other. He is a lucky man." Sherlock thought they were careful but it seems they couldn't hide their feelings.

* * *

Louis death came sudden as all of them. Only a few weeks later, they were walking their route as Louis steps onto a mine. It has to be a new one, the path should be cleared. If Louis had kept his foot on it they might have survived but they were walking fast and the explosion took them both out.

As Sherlock wakes he finds himself in a tent with many other injured people. He must have survived or came back before they found him dead. A doctor saw that he was awake and told him he had a concussion from hitting a tree. Louis didn't make it. They found his body or better what's left of it. Most of his lower body was missing. Sherlock left soon after this. He always had a way out and without his friend there was no reason to stay.

On the fight back into the USA Sherlock had suddenly a thought. Soon will be John's birth. He has no idea which year or the date but he needs a safer world for him. So John can grow up without war. This world has to survive until they meet they can meet in John's present. What brings a whole lot of new problems but these are for another time.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Sherlock calls Mycroft to tell him how he became immortal and that he had another visit from the immortal. Mycroft told that he would come after today's mission.

Sherlock lays back on his bed today John would meet him in the jungle. Strange that he had dreamed about it the night before it happens. Okay he only dreamed about meeting Louis but that's the reason for everything that happens afterwards.

Only a few days left. Sherlock looked out of the window and remember who set there hours before. This man had to be taken care off. He was too dangerous, too unpredictable as for having an immortal live. They need a solution and he has to tell Mycroft of he new employee that he should watch out for.


	36. When two fight

**Chapter 36: When two fight**

 _'~1962 AD, USA'_

"My name is Gabriella, I´m 12 years old and today is the day that will later be called ´Black Saturday´. Without holding his hand while we watch everything from the beach, I would have run already as he explained to me what this all mean."

* * *

Sherlock is a good friend for an adult. In her experience are adult not very trustworthy or could keep a promise. Every time an adult had promised her something they broke it. Her parents promised her that they will be there for her forever but she is now an orphan, alone in the world without a mother or a father to be with her. Her teacher weren't better. They promised to help her, support her even without her parents so she could go to school, learn and have a future but no more school for her, without money they wouldn't let her in. The woman from her new ´home´ like she calls it promised that Gabriella had a place there, now she is homeless and without Sherlock she would be long gone.

Her savior was different he helped her, gave her food and a place to sleep. She had tried to take his bag as he had let it on a chair next to him. But Sherlock wasn't angry at her, he invited her to eat with him, ask her question and at last offered her a wish. He had said when he is able to do it he would. So Gabriella wished to be brought to the USA, the land where dreams come true, where everything is possible even for a child. Sherlock looked at her and without further hesitation he promised to take her with him on his journey.

There are people who would think ill of Sherlock for taking a little girl with him but he was never afraid. She had heard all the stories about man that kidnap children and hurt them but he wasn't like them. He was like … yes what was he? The first time Gabriella looked into his eyes she thought that the man was old. Much older than her grandma as she had died, but he was young mid-twenty she would guess, she never asked. She rarely asks anything, afraid he could get fed up with her and let her behind. He told her that he had to do something before they could take the next boat, he had to watch something.

That leads them to this beach where she could see the line of ships floating at the horizon. The sky was clear and a year ago she would have ask her father to take her and her friends to the beach. Instead she asks the man next to her the first question since many days. "Why are we here, Sherlock?"

He looked down on her and back to the sea, with his free hand Sherlock points to the ships in the distance. "We are waiting for them to decide which way mankind is taking. Under the sea are others, submarines, waiting and letting the situation getting more critical." The girl was confused. She had heard many thinks about a conflict but never really understood the whole thing. Her savior seems to notice this. "This ships build a line, a border that were send by the US government to prevent further shipmen of weapon and soldiers of the Soviet Union to Cuba. Under the sea, the submarines are form the Soviet Union. They have all come here today because we stand on the edge of something that could destroy the world." Gabriella, understands but that still doesn't explain why they have to watch the ships from the beach.

"What will happen?" Her voice got a bit smaller, only a short distance from this place were dangerous people and weapons, why was she here.

"The best thing that can happen is nothing. The two government leader need a bit more time to come to an understanding. If nothing happens here today we all can call us very lucky." Sherlock tights his grip on Gabriella´s hand. "This only happened because men can´t stand back for one second. Always is someone that they don't like having something that could be dangers against the own country so they build something even bigger and more threatening and so on. When no one stops it we all have to suffer. That's the reason we are here. If today isn't going down quietly there won't be a place on this planet to call safe and home anymore. I did everything to stop it, now we have to wait how mankind decided it wants to continue." So they wait.

Only a few minutes later a man appears behind him. Gabriella hides a bit behind Sherlock who was still starring to the horizon. The man came closer and without hesitation shot her saviors hand to the side and closes around the stranger´s. Surprised by the intimateness she stayed quiet, she had been taught by her father that adults sometimes need their own time and don't want to be interrupted.

"Sherlock why are you here?" The stranger asks the same question Gabriella had asked but to her surprise he gets a different kind of answer.

"Because I still have hope." The stranger looks out on the sea, watching the ships like they do. "Out there is a friend of mine, or better the son of a friend. I ask him not to send the bomb on its way if asked. And I still believe in mankind, John. I won´t give up hope on you." The stranger, John seems to understand what Sherlock had said even when Gabriella wasn't so sure he had answered his question probably but John nods.

"Can I wait with you two for a while?" John asks and Sherlock seems suddenly sad. Gabriella had thought that he would be happy when his friend would want to spend time with him and it seems like the man wasn't put off by her.

Time passes and nothing big happened, a few of the ships throw something into the water but there was no answer from down there. Suddenly Sherlock looked down at her with a smile as if he knew something good happened. "How about we get you ready and take the first boat on Monday, a friend of mine owes me a favor." John seem also like he was ready to go, she somehow liked the man, he has a nice aura surrounding him. No wonder Sherlock likes him.

Before they separate Sherlock stops John. "Did you eat something you don't usually eat or do you feel unwell?" Confused by this question John had let go of Sherlock´s hand and touch himself in the face and on his tummy.

"No, everything is fine, why do I look ill." John pulls on his hair but only a few single stray ones came out.

"No it's not that but could you visit one of your doctors, please." Sherlock shouldn't sound like he was begging, that was wrong, he had saved her, he will take her to the countries where dreams come true, why is he begging this man to go to a doctor, he looked fine and didn't complain about pain.

"I already was … but I don't have the result jet." John looked now worried too. "What can you see?" He looked now into Sherlock´s eyes with an intense fire she hadn't thought could appear in a humans eye.

"You smell like death, I have smelled it before on many people it took me centuries to understand what it means but yours is new, I couldn't pick it up the last time, so it has to be something new." John only nods, his eyes weren't really focus.

"I have to go." Without waiting John leaves the two behind, disappearing behind the palms and rocks. Sherlock looks after him until he had remembers that Gabriella was still here. He couldn't help his friend so he took the girl to their overnight stay at the friend´s house (with the boat).

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010 Friday'_

"-ohn. John! Do you hear me?" Mycroft looks more than worried as his agent finally decided to return into the world of communication and awareness.

"Yes. Yes Mycroft, I can hear you." It wasn't the shock of hearing that the lab results pointing out that he did have radiation poisoning or that it was severe enough that he will show synthons in a few weeks or sooner that will lead to his death, no it was that Sherlock already knew. That his love was sitting in the past worrying about John and thinking that he was already sentence to death. Who knows what could the immortal will do.

Without waiting for Mycroft to tell him more, offer useless treatment or a break John leaves the office, his boss gets thankfully a call only a second before he was able to stop him. Noticing the synthons of shock John let himself be led by the crowed back to his apartment where he falls into a dreamless sleep, the report could wait, it was Friday and even Mycroft would understand when the report arrives a day later. He had just told him that he would die a horrible unstoppable death in no time.

* * *

Mycroft didn't have the chance to tell his agent that he had found the way to get immortal; he couldn't tell John that Sherlock found it. Maybe he has to wait until the missions are over or John could change the past by telling Sherlock, the present Sherlock could not remember it like he did the day before.

All his concentration was brought back to one of his agent on the phone who had called and gave a shocked John the opportunity to leave. "Repeat this again." Mycroft says to make sure he hadn't heard wrong.

"Sir, the target is lost, we can't find him anymore. Team 2 and 4 had visual on him and suddenly he disappeared, in front of everyone. There was no building or vehicle he had jump into. He is disappeared." Mycroft answer imminently. It was most likely not the fault of his agent, they target an immortal with more experience; probably notice them as soon as he left the building today after work.

"Agent, new orders, Team 3 stays at the location where you lost the target. Team 2 is stationed around this building, Team 1 takes the address from the application and Team 4 goes to the medical centre. Report on me at any time for a sighting and at eight in the morning."

"Yes sir." The call ended. Mycroft sighs and sits down in his chair for a second. He had let his agent shadowing Moriarty since he had left the building after work. He didn't want the man to notice that they in fact know that he is immortal too but it appears they had chase him away faster than expected. He has to tell Sherlock that the observation was a disaster.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010 Saturday'_

Mycroft lowers his head in shame, his agent weren't able to locate Moriarty again and Sherlock had trusted him to do so. None of his team did notice anything suspicions and the team that was shadowing the other members of their team (for their protection) didn't pick up something ether. Only bed news today and he was the messenger and that's without the worst news about John´s medical report.

The security measures took longer now to get in, not that it had stopped the other immortal the first two times. After the conversation they had on Thursday Mycroft had thought that they would go into the right direction by surveillance and knowledge but nothing was working so far.

Sherlock was waiting for him, after all the time it had taken even for him to reach the immortals room someone had already informed him. Mycroft didn't need to start, Sherlock could read, that Moriarty did get away. "He is gone but there is something you have to tell me that I will not like." Sherlock offered this as if to say I make it easy get over it.

"The medical report form John´s doctors came back after the incident in Hiroshima." Sherlock´s eyes focus icy on Mycroft before they lower sadly. "I´m sorry, he had been too long in the area and got hit by the first blast."

"How long?" The immortal looked as broken as on the day he asks to have a brother, even more compared to it.

"A few weeks before the symptoms can't be longer ignored." Before Mycroft could stop himself he asks the one question that was born in the office as he had watched John leave the room. "Would drink your blood, like you did all this time ago from Moriarty, cure him?" Was it possible that this … love story (Mycroft didn't have a better name for it), wouldn't end in a tragedy.

Sherlock reached out for the report in his hands and Mycroft gives them over without hesitation. The immortal looked down on the report, not on the words written more at the picture of John, connected with his file. "Not sure but it would be a possible way for a treatment … if John wants to stay with me … forever." Sherlock sounded unsure and insecure, also sunken in his thoughts. Mycroft notice that he wouldn't get much more useful information and had delivered his message. He said his good bye without getting an answer and leaves Sherlock who was holding John´s picture tight in his hand.

* * *

 _'Present, London – 2010, Sunday'_

John had time to thing, lots of time. He had locked himself in his apartment after work, pulled the plug on the landline, turned off his phone and changed the door bells volume to zero. No one could bother him without kicking down the door.

John had time to think about a lot of things and he came to a decision. One he had to get approved by his boyfriend (he loved Sherlock to call that, even when the two never had talked about it) but he would have to wait for another few days until they would meet in the presents. There was no doubt in John´s mind that they would meet. If Sherlock wants to stay together with him forever, he would ask him to make him immortal.

John had time to think and immortality sounds better then dying and leaving Sherlock behind. It was not the death he feared. In his line of work was dying something that could daily happen. This new assignment was saver as he ever was and he was already attack, tortured, fell of a rock, poisoned by an atomic bomb and nearly losing the love of his life to the endless darkness in his lovers hurt that had built up strength to eat its owner alive.

John had time to think, accepted his fate and was now bored. Yes, what do normal people on a weekend? He really needs a few tips form … yes the list of people he knows and would trust with such a question was sort and thinking about it only Greg came to mind and he is working for a secret government unit as chef mechanic for a time machine and in relationship with the boss who John suspected to be far more powerful as he let on. His alternative where Mrs. Hudson who seems normal on the first looks but under her mask of normally and lovely old lady was a tough woman who knows how to fight her own fights if she must. Molly who was probably busy creating new outfits for him (he doesn't want to think about it, dress up was never his favorite game as a child) and the boss himself, god only knows what the man does in his free time, except spending it with Greg.

So it is Greg and John really needs someone to talk to, thinking isn't always the best solution.

* * *

The call came around 4 p.m. not his normal drinking time but John had to tell him something and they didn't have a pub night in ages. Okay ages was a bit much but being part of a time travel agency, time feels different. Everything is happening fast and changing even faster so a week feels like a month or more. John had told him that he got the medical report and wants to talk to someone, of course Greg would come for a drink around afternoon.

The pub was nearly empty, as expected. John was sitting in ´their´ booth already waiting for Greg with to beer and a relieved smile on his lips. "Thank god you are here, I think the bartender thought I would start drinking alone at this time of the day and start with two beer up front." John pushes one beer towards Greg who accepts it thankfully.

"It is a bit early but I think I remember us starting earlier once. Not that we have to tell them that." Greg takes a sip and looks at his friend again. "The results aren't good I guess." John shakes his head.

"I hope I can finish the mission without problem but I have already decided to ask Sherlock to make me immortal, if he wants me, of course. I will not let him alone but I won't tell him until we meet in the presents, it wouldn't be fair to ask something of him before our timeline match, who knows what happens until then. We still have forty years." Greg looked up from his beer, did John not know that their where only four missions left? Was it something Mycroft wants to keep away from John until the last second? Thinking about his lover makes him sad again, they hadn't spent a second together. Mycroft was busy with some kind of special mission. The whole weekend was filled with tries to distract himself form mission his partner.

John notice the change in Greg's thoughts imminently. "What did he do?" Greg looked confused. "Mycroft, you thinking of him right now and I don't like the lonely look on your face."

"He … he is busy with something he can't tell me and I was lonely and bored the whole weekend." Greg smiles at John´s rolling eyes. "Yes I know my boyfriend is only a call way and not decades in the past but still I´m allowed to miss him when he is not spending enough time with me."

"Alright, no judging. How about another, without our boyfriends, as you love to call them, we can drink." Both man lift their nearly empty glasses, empty them and order the next.

* * *

Mycroft could see them the second he enters the pub. The smiling and laughing men, he had to hid his own amusement. Walking over to them they look up at him surprised and on his lovers face grows a nice shade of red. Something Mycroft wants to see more and plans on do so this evening. "Gentlemen, I´m terribly sorry but I have to interrupted your lovely get together, I would like my boyfriend here to accomplish me." Both man share a look. The image of Mycroft Holmes in a pub like this was just not matching. But John understands that the man wants to share a few hours with each other, it the same with him, weekends are the worst, they are without Sherlock.

"You want to take my drinking partner away, boss. Not sure I can let that happen." John had to tease him a bit, Sunday, not really his boss right now. "What do you offer me in return?"

Suddenly very serious Mycroft answers. "The answer to your question about immortality but I will give it to you after your last mission." Both man were suddenly sober and stare at Mycroft.

"You know how Sherlock got immortal? How?" John questions and Greg reads something in Mycroft´s eyes that tells him enough to not question further. John would have to wait. His boyfriend must have planned everything and when the genius of a men would decide something like that it was the best to follow.

"John, Mycroft have his reasons and I guess it has something to do with the timeline." Greg offered as the voice of reason. Looking at his friend Greg seems to get into his head, as he accepted it very quickly but maybe the man was just tired after hearing he has only a few weeks left. Mycroft was also surprised and flinched a bit as a hand takes his. Greg had gotten up and took his hand. Still not used to that feeling he needed a second to relax. "I take care of the bill, be nice to John."

Mycroft looks at his boyfriend´s bag. "You can be happy to have someone like Greg who is looking at you as if you are his world." John says and Mycroft remembers back to the day at the museum where his only wish was that someone would someday look at him like Sherlock watched child version of John.

"Very happy, a wish came true." Mycroft smiles soft and turns his back to Greg to talk to John. "You are also happy, Sherlock is looking like that at you too." With that he left, takes Greg hand as he got to the bar and leaves John behind.

It took John a whole minute to understand what Mycroft had just said and everything indicates that Mycroft and Sherlock had met. Shock and relieved John gets up and walks home to get a clear head. Everything was changing so fast. The solution for immortality, his death coming closer, the little amounts of time John can spend in the past (50 years, they had nearly 17000 already) and the first clue that Sherlock was really here.


	37. Tears of a nation

**Chapter 37: Tears of a nation**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

After all this endless years of exciting nothing surprised him anymore. Older as time (at least it feels like it sometimes) there is nearly nothing that could excide Moriarty more than a moment. A moment for an immortal can be a century but is mostly more like a few years. Like the internet. It was a fascinating thing; yes he had helped with the development by pushing the right and talented people. Planted seeds of ideas but only to get the system for himself, to uses it for his organization. Information is the key and the internet offered that.

Right now was a time of hiding and playing and the immortal enjoys it. He had known that turning that child all this time ago would offer him something to do. This child had grown and aged until his first death and was now a man, that could play with him. Sherlock, Moriarty was fascinated that he still uses his first name. He, himself had long forgotten what his parents had called him. He had forgotten many of his names. He doesn't need them anymore, useless information that can be erased. A mind like his can't be filled with rubbish.

His ´friend´ like he calls Sherlock had found friends himself, useful and powerful people as it seems, especially Mycroft Holmes. Moriarty hates the man, who had started to suspect him but doesn't want to show it openly. Because it could interfere with Sherlock´s time travel plan. He still needs to find out how that had started.

Hiding from the government agents would end in a few minutes because it is Monday and that means `Jim` need to get to work. He knows that nothing will happen to him, the agents were only there to watch him and it would be suspicion when he wouldn't appear at work. So the immortal gets his back, slips out of a hidden door in a small alley and walk right into the morning crowed that heads to the subway.

Before the underground would blog his signal (he had to think about an more efficient way for that one) he sends a text to Moran.

 _To M: Watch his toy. JM_

* * *

John woke up with a strange feeling in his stomach. He stayed lying in the bed waiting for the feeling to disappear but he wasn't so lucky. It became unbearable as pain mixed with nausea hit him combined. Breathing heavily through his nose John jumps up, ignoring the dizziness and running to the toilette. The first good thing that happened on this day was that he made it in time to empty mostly bail in the porcelain bowel.

"Stupid alcohol, stupid tolerance Greg has." What followed was a moan and John decided to stop this pub visits for a while. He rests his forehead in the cold material and takes a few deep breaths to calm down his racing heart before he flushes the evidence of the day before down the toilette.

The look in the mirror solids his decision for an alcohol abstinent. John had deep purple bags under his eyes and his skin looked thin and pale. Sighing John washes his face, brushes his teeth and decided that the shower can wait until after a cup of tea. Maybe he has still something of this stomach friendly stuff he had gotten years ago for a stomach bug.

After the tea (still not tasting good enough to enjoy it) John had gotten on the next train to get to work. It didn't surprise him that the shaking of the train wasn't helping. What surprised him was the empty office. Jim und Molly were waiting for him. Molly took one look at him and her worry skyrocket. Before she can start to fuss over him John lifts his hand. "I´m fine, had too much yesterday. Greg can stomach far more than me."

"Oh, is this the reason he is at home?" That got a smile out of John, the first of the day.

"I don't think so. I guess our boss/ his boyfriend suggested a later begin of the day." Molly grimed and holds out a pail of clothes. John changes and was ready as Anthea entered the office with her phone as usually in her hand.

"Good Morning Mr. Watson, Mr. Holmes has the details for the next mission for you." She offered him the phone and John takes it without hesitation.

"Good morning Sir." There could have come more but John decided against the comment and really tries to not thing about where the man was right now. Of course the picture of him and Greg, naked in bed, only covered with a blanket appeared in his mind.

"John, your next mission will take you to Huston, USA in the year of 1963. The day President Kennedy was murdered. There are pictures of Sherlock in the crowd, watching." Anthea offered the pictures in question. "Find out if he knew about it before, was he part of it or did he try to prevent it. We can't be sure what happened. There isn't much video material at all about it."

"Understood. I´m heading out." Before John had to phone to far away he could hear Mycroft´s next question.

"How are you feeling John?" Good question. Physically not so great but he couldn't tell that Mycroft, ne needs to see Sherlock. Nothing would stop him, especially not a hangover.

"Everything is perfect. Take care of Greg." That let his boss stop and John had time to give the phone back to Anthea.

HOPE was ready and John couldn't wait to find Sherlock again. Last time was the little girl with him. And suddenly he was thinking what happened to her. The people they meet from now on could be still alive, it was fascinating. Kennedy´s assassination was a few decades in the past only nine years before he was born.

John shakes his head to get his mind a bit clearer and concentration on his mission. He could think later about time traveling.

* * *

Mycroft ends the call after getting an update on John´s health. It sounds like his agent was experience the first signs of radiation poisoning, he needs to talk to the doctor again. It sounded before like that would take another few weeks. He returns back to bed and was greeted with this one look he always dreamed about it. It makes his eyes water and Greg, lovely Greg notice imminently.

"What is it? Did something happen?" The mechanic set up on one arm to look at Mycroft to get a first impression of the situation before the words would tell him the rest.

"Nothing, really I just thought about something, which happened a long time ago." He smiled softly and climbed back into bed. "I think it was a good idea to stay in bed this morning."

"Don't change the subject but yes it was lovely from my boss to give me the morning off." Greg pulls Mycroft in his arms and holds his head on his chest. "You want to tell me? The thing from long ago."

"It´s a long story and I can't tell you a few things, not now at least but I can get you the short version." Mycroft feels Greg's hand on his head, while he starts to play with his lover's chest hair. "As I was twelve, I meet someone very wise and lonely; he was old and had seen many things. I witness him watching his one true love and there was this look in his eyes. It was love and longing, there was trust and desperation but most of all were his eyes filled with hope. Endless hope that they would spend the rest of their live together as soon as they will stand next to each other. This look, I wished for it to be pointed at me. That someone special would look at me like this. I had never giving up thinking about it, this dream about a special person. And right now you are looking at me like that. I got my dream and believe me I will keep it." Mycroft turns his head so he can look up at Greg.

There it was again. The look that was turning the world in something beautiful, filled with light and love. "You know you have the same look on your face every time we are alone. You hide it when other people are close by. I guess you don't want your enemies to know about me but that's okay. I can live with that.

Their lips meet and soft touches became more heated until they continue where they had stopped the night before. Mycroft had never been happier in his life.

* * *

 _'~1963 AD, Huston, USA'_

The landing was as soft as John could manage but still was his body, especially his stomach not happy with it. In favor to meet his beloved John orders his body to follow his order and promised it can rebel as soon as he was back home. Now he needs Sherlock, the weekends are the worst and he will apologize as soon as he meet his present Sherlock for all the years he had suffered waiting for him.

John had landed in a back alley, a few hundred meters away from the whole event. Most of the streets are blocked and hundreds of people were standing around to see the President. John remembers that Kennedy was one that was loved by his people. He could remember a documentary he had once watched with half an eye, to busy doing something else. The TV was running in the background and the pictures of desperate people crying about the man had found their way to John.

Now he was standing in this crowd, between the people who will witness something horrible in a few minutes. While John walks to the place the picture had shown Sherlock he felt suddenly as if someone was watching him. John turns and looks around but there was no one looking at him or actively not looking at him.

* * *

Sherlock was standing at a street corner. He was lucky to be here. The last time he saw the president was a few years back. Huston was not his favorite place in the world but it was the city Gabriella had found a home. She was nearly done with school and she wants to be a nurse. A dream growing out of the wish to help others.

He was proud of her but this was the last visit he could do, at least the last he would talk to her. Her surprised comment that he hadn't changed after all this time let him remember that he can't risk being notice. Not after hiding his true nature for so long. Who knows what people would do to him when they find out about his immortality?

The air changes, that means John was on his way. Suddenly realizing what that means, Sherlock looks around to find the reason for it. Most times something bad happened or something important for history. Most times they witness together the changing points of mankind. War, natural catastrophe, political decisions and things like this. The only matching criteria is the President that is visiting the city and would pass by this street in a few minutes.

John´s hand touches carefully the tips of his fingers. They were in a public place to a time their relationship would get them disgust and most likely openly hatred. John was subtle and let the sign of affection be small and discrete. Sherlock, pulled out of his thoughts what will happen here soon and looks at a sickly looking John. The smell of death was still there.

It doesn't surprise Sherlock. After smelling it the first time he had found out about something called radiation poisoning. It was something people had talked about it a few years after the atomic bomb had went off. The one John was present to. There was no use to ask why he was sick. His only hope was that there was a treatment in the future John came from or that his future self had found out how to become immortal so John could be saved.

* * *

John was aware of Sherlock´s look, the meaning behind it. It was the last thing he had asked of him at their meeting before. "I got the results from my doctor." If Sherlock was surprised that he offers it without being ask, he doesn't show it. "Looks like our little trip to Hiroshima had a few side effects. I got something called radiation poisoning, do you know it?" Sherlock nods. "Yeah, looks like it would take a few weeks till it shows its whole glory." John tries to sound positive about it but he knows what is coming to him.

"Is there a treatment?" John shakes his head. "Did you find out how to get immortal?" Something lights up in John´s eyes.

"No but Mycroft has."

"Mycroft?" Sherlock tries to remember if John had told him about this person before but couldn't remember.

"My boss Mycroft Holmes, okay boss is a bit wrong, he is … I think a friend somehow. At least he is not the real boss-type-person. He had found his special someone; it makes people warmer and opener. He is the leader of the time travel agent I´m working in. Anyway I ask him for help and yesterday he told me he found it. I think he met you, the present-you from my time and the future-one for you."

Thinking about It, there was the possibility that his future-self had started the time travel thing to meet John in the first place. "What is it? Can I give it to you now?" Suddenly realizing what he had just set Sherlock looked down to his feet. "Of course only if you want to become immortal and you know … stay with me."

"If you will offer it to me I will spend the rest of eternity with you but unfortunally Mycroft didn't tell me what it is. Guess the time wasn't right and I would only take it from you. What if your future-self had changed his mind and doesn't want another immortal with him."

"That would never happen." Sherlock raises his voice and a few people around them look at him, offended by his load voice.

"Good, I won't change my mind about it either. I understand the consequences, maybe someday I will question it but I doubt it. I could never let you watch me grow old and die. I need you in my life as much as you need me." Sherlock was glad John wasn't rejecting him. All the confident about their relationship that he had thought he had were blown away with the thought John could react immortality and with it a life with him.

* * *

The crowd around them was taking a collective breath, something was happening and with something they mean the car with the President. John F. Kennedy was riding in a carbrio, with his wife and is waving at his fans. Suddenly John remembers his mission and what will happen in a minute. "Sherlock why are you here?"

Understanding where the question came from Sherlock offered John what he had. "I just wanted to see the president, I like that one and I was in the city to visit a friend. He is a good one. But I think your appearance means something is about to happen, am I right?"

Before John could say something a shot cuts through the cheering crowd and the both man watch Kennedy crumble into himself.

Silence.

Just one second than panic and the city of Huston drowns in chaos. John got a short look at the car that was driving off to the closed hospital but loses it as he was pushed by a screaming woman, followed by a giant man that was pushing him further away from Sherlock. The immortal was also pushed and pulled into the stream of running people.

* * *

After Sherlock could free himself from the people around him he walks back to find John. Slowly thoughts about John being pushed over and stepped on came to his mind. The fear of losing John was suddenly a huge metal ball in his stomach that was pulling downwards.

Between the panicking people, the running and shouting was it hard to find the one person that he was looking for but John had found his own way to get attention. The smaller man was standing on a parked car, looking over the crowd, looking for him and as their eyes meet the world around them disappeared.

The people, the assassination, the fear and panic, nothing counts except this one man looking into his eyes. Sherlock runs over to John while the other climbed down from the car and as they meet falling into each other's arms. The people around them had better to do.

Afraid about what will happen next Sherlock pulls John away and let him lead the way to HOPE. It was better when John was back home, without the risk of getting hurt.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Mycroft walks down the corridor that leads to Sherlock´s room. The immortal had called around noon, asking for a visit. The door was open but Mycroft knocks at the doorframe.

Sherlock is sitting on his bed, on his had a new wrapping and a pill box in his uninjured one. "What happened to your hand?"

For an answer Sherlock offered him the pill box. "Give that to John; tell him its some fancy experimental medication for radiation poisoning. Don't tell him it´s from me. I put my blood into the capsules; it should work like when I drank Moriarty´s blood."

Mycroft takes the box and puts it into his jacket. It was a sign of trust that Sherlock was offering something like that, he knows it could be used in another way against his will. "Why can't I tell him what it is or that I got it from you?"

"John will only take the solution for immortality when it comes directly from me. He told me so in the past. But we can't meet before the last mission as you call it, because it would change something. I am afraid that it will be too late at that point." Sherlock looked at John´s medical file he still had from before. "I think the time traveling isn't helping his condition." The look Sherlock was giving Mycroft as his eyes returned to the conversation were hart and lacking the warmth that had been resident before. "You will ask John if he wants a future with me. You will ask him if he wants to stay with me after this all ends and IF he says yes, then you can give the blood to him. Not one second earlier."

* * *

John arrives back and got sick again. "Stupid machine." Inside he apologizes to HOPE, it wasn't her fault. After John had drank a glass of water and changed into his normal clothes Mycroft was waiting for him.

"I would like to ask you something and I hope you will answer my questions truthfully." John swallows what could it be that Mycroft wants to know. "Do you want a future with Sherlock, together. Staying with him, forever?"

A surprisingly easy question for John to answer, he had talked about it with Sherlock not 10 minutes ago. "Yes." There was only one word needed. But what had brought on this question. Maybe his comment on Greg during the phone call.

"John, you know that this is the first signs of radiation poisoning. I have something for you. It´s an experimental treatment but you want to have a future with Sherlock so I will offer it to you." John takes the bottle with a fake label. Mycroft had changed the container to make it look more … real. He should tell John that the time travel is worsening his synthons but what would it change. John is determent to do it and who was he to separate the two men.

John doesn't question the medicine, takes it and ignores all the voices in his head that question this action. They can all shut it, thinks John. He wants a future so he will take the pills when they let him see Sherlock.


	38. Reaching for the stars and a man touches

**Chapter 38: Reaching for the stars and a man touches the moon**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Tuesday morning starts exactly like the day before. Waking up and a visit on the toilet but today he had no excuse for it. No alcohol the day before, Mycroft was right the first symptoms are showing. Not that it was a surprise. John was only in denial about the fact that he had an invisible and very deadly sickness living inside his cells. Something he couldn't change or fight against it with his own powers.

In the kitchen was the miracle drug waiting for him. Experimental, John was a lab rat again, like with the time machine. But he didn't care not that it had bothered him the first time. He opens the bottle and takes the second dosage. The first was the day before with his dinner and new episode of Doctor Who. He will show Sherlock this show. He will love it. And they can point out the mistakes in history together. Sherlock will be better at it but that was alright.

His hope that the new medicine would take away the nausea had been destroyed but that wouldn't stop him from going into work today or any other day that will follow. Sherlock was waiting and even if he would take a break for a day John doubt his condition would be better.

* * *

One his way to work he gets a call from Mrs. Hudson. John feels guilty, he hadn't called her in days, yes he had an excuse but it wasn't right anyway. He loves this old lady already. She is one of these people who can reach your heart without effort and stay in there for the rest of your live.

"Good morning Mrs. Hudson. How are you?" He ties to sound euphoric and not dead tired like he feels.

"Morning John. I´m great. I have got news that my tenant will be back tomorrow, he is better and is looking forward to come home. But I wanted to ask you out for tea if you have time. I know I´m an old lady and I´m talking too much but it would be really great." She sounded lonely, good thing her tenant will be back soon. Even when an ex drug addict isn't the best.

"Of course Mrs. Hudson, I would love to. I enjoy our time together. There is a new place down the street from your flat. I could pick you up after work and we can try it out." It wasn't that new and he noticed the sign after his first visit. She might have too and tired it out already.

"That would be lovely. Can´t wait for it. When William had come home probably I will introduce you two. You will like him. He is sometimes a bit lonely, I think." Mrs. Hudson ends the call and John felt a bit better.

* * *

Today was the whole team in the office. Lestrade was working on a fine tuning for the time machine, Anthea, right, great alias was on her phone next to Mr. Boss with his bloody newspaper, Molly and her cloth obsession. God where did Mycroft find all this strange people.

They working very efficient and following their daily program, for a change you have to say. Like Moriarty was but it didn't give him the chance to get more information about the next missions. Or the first. There had to be some file about it. He knows Johnny boy writes a report after every mission. But he can't find them. Not when everyone was walking around him, just being there was too much.

Yesterday was the opportunity but the few hours weren't enough to search everything. He had to be careful, also was he very aware of his stalker, how he likes to call them. Today was no window to disappear for a second. Not only was Mycroft here who was looking far too often his way, no Lestrade and Anthea find to many reasons to be close to him.

The only thing was, he couldn't be sure that they do it on purpose. There was no proof, they were doing their jobs. He will have a closer look on it later, right know he have to do his job too.

That's the reason he doesn't like undercover work. HE has people for things like this but he makes an exception. For Sherlock, always for Sherlock.

* * *

Finding a busy office the perfect environment to watch the other immortal Mycroft is only with half a mind in the conversation he has with John about the next mission. Sherlock is part of the NASA Moon Project. And they want to know how far his influence is reaching.

Mycroft isn't sure what exactly the immortal is doing in his office. It was a mistake to let him stay but after Sherlock had picked him out and told him to not intervene there was only observing left and Mycroft hates this part of his job. He had people for something like this. People who get paid for watching and following immortals that working undercover in a time travel office.

When did his life start to get complicated like that?

* * *

 _'~1969 AD, USA'_

The start of the rocket will be a week from now and everyone was panicking already. Sherlock had told them hundreds of times that the calculation are correct, that everything will work out this time. They will reach the sky, the moon and everything but looking at his colleagues he doubts that even one of them would remember their names right now if ask.

Jackson was on his sixth coffee, his finger were shaking slightly, Mike was dead tired, his third night without sleep and Thomas, let's not talk about him he just ran into a wall while reading the last report on a test.

This situation would be much funnier when he had someone to tell them thinks like that. But they were all too nervous about the start, they wouldn't understand the lightness of his mind, his confident that everything will work. Sherlock wasn't sure where it came from but it didn't change his mood.

Right at the moment as he wanted to return to his calculation he feels it, him. John was here again. The last six year had gone much faster after he had found the work at the Space Program. He was busy, needed his mind and could work as long as he wanted. But still six years without John.

Finding John was very easy. Most times he let John find him but today Sherlock felt like jumping his boyfriend. Yes, Sherlock was excited about the rocket launch too, like his colleagues, only less negative about its outcome.

* * *

John was sitting on the floor right next to HOPE, a slightly green color covers his face and Sherlock knows imminently what's wrong.

"Hey love. What to relax a bit." John opens tired eyes and nods. Sherlock sits next to him and guides John´s whole upper body down so John´s head was resting on Sherlock´s lap. "Want to know something about space and the rocket?" John nods. Sherlock can only imagine that the time travel had this effect on him. He doubts that any kind of boss would send John on a mission in this condition. Even when John fights it, no sane person would let him even leave the bed.

Sherlock listens to John´s breathing and feels the heartbeat through his hand on John´s chest. The other hand was petting his head in a smoothing motion.

The immortal tells John everything he can think about. Like the job he got by accident. Sherlock visited a lecture at some university and asks a few questions, he hadn't known that there was a recruit for the NASA Space program. Sherlock tells John about the tests they did, the accidence and mis-launches. The frustration of his colleagues but also the fun they had. Sherlock tells John about Neil one of the astronauts that will be on the moon when everything works out in a week. And he tells John about the stars and the beauty in them. At that time John was feeling better and finally asking him what his favorite constellation it. Sherlock had no answer for it; he didn't know there were any.

John laughs about it and promised to teach him everything about it.

* * *

"John, can the doctors in your time do anything for you. Or did Mycroft give you something to make it better?" John was looking up at him. Judging his questions as it seems.

"I have something but I guess it will take some time. Don't worry. We still have a few years. Don't know how many missions but I hope not too much. A lot of stuff happened the last 20 years. Many opportunities to meet." John smiled again.

"Okay but I will send you home now. Maybe you can go to bed early today." John chuckles.

"Not quite jet. I have promised Mrs. Hudson a visit with tea at a new location. She is really a lovely lady. Like a mother but sometimes scary and very strong. I won´t let her be alone this afternoon." There was no use in discussing the matter.

Sherlock helps John up and closes his arms around the smaller man. Feeling the heat, a bit higher body temperature then normal. Sherlock notice the difference. Another symptom that was attacking his lovers body.

John and Sherlock look each other into their eyes. Just looking and taking in the other persons present. "You still want to?" John needed no translation for the question.

"Yes." They get closer and kiss for the first time since ages. It feels like millennia but it were only a few days for John and a few years for Sherlock. Still it tastes sweet and innocent, like the first time. John wonders if he will think about it like that when he had live his first thousand years.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

Now John has the proof for his radiation poisoning and the symptoms are getting worse. There was no reason why he should have got sick again. At least his colleagues were ready for him. A bucket and water ready as a chair to sit on it. They look all far too worried for John´s liking. He was still not used to this kindness and everything. It will take a while, after years of no one and nothing to worry about.

Everyone was offering him a ride home, a cub, another visit from the doctor but John had promised Mrs. Hudson to take her out for tea. In the end he couldn't get Molly to leave and invited her to come with them. Mrs. Hudson likes her, people in general like her. One more makes no different. At least the two women could talk while he works on the tea that it stays down.

If this is getting worse John has no idea how he should work. With the weakness in his body, the nausea and he is getting a head edge.

* * *

After felt watched the whole day Moriarty had stayed a bit in the background. He, or better his alias wasn't as close as the others to Johnny boy but he offered his help and put on a mask of worry.

This day was useless Moriarty concludes as he left the building and uses his first chance to slip out of the sight of his stalker team. He needs something, anything to find out how and why this whole time travel thing started. They must have met before the first mission. There would be no reason to choose Johnny for it. He would never be the first choice for something like this and Sherlock, yes what let him change like this. His creation had such a good start, Rome, his time in London as the Ripper. Moriarty was proud but after this something changed and the only reason for it had to be John Watson, this small man, who was nothing special, was interrupting his plan, destroying it.

How did they start? The answer had to be in their first meeting.

For a second Moriarty thought about to visit Sherlock again but he wouldn't have changed his opinion on the offer in a few days. What are days when you have centuries? He could wait, an immortal has nothing better to do and if the condition of his toy worsen further in that rate, there was no worries about it. John Watson would die in a few days.

Sherlock and John hadn't met jet, so no immortality for Sherlock´s pet.

* * *

Sherlock was ready. He had collected his belongings packed his clothes and everything else into his bag, his violin in her case and was now waiting in an empty room. Only with the picture of John in his hand, the picture from the medical file, the file that tells him John would die.

He hadn't asked Mycroft about the pill, it would destroy him to know that John hadn't taken them. It was only one night left in this institution. Tomorrow Mycroft would pick him up so Sherlock could get back to his flat and get everything ready.

The day after tomorrow was the big day. He will finally meet his John, without hiding behind masks and covers. He would finally be able to touch John again after all this years of waiting and more waiting.

Sherlock remembers the last time his past-self had met John, remembers this tears, the promise. He will make sure that John will never again have to shed tears like this. Never again.


	39. On his knees, for peace and understandin

**Chapter 39: On his knees, for peace and understanding**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

"You call that security?" Moriarty whispers to an empty and dark house. The security system was a joke. The camera´s got a loop to show the day before, always be prepared. The code was easily overwritten and the old fashion lock was nothing that could have stopped him. You have to give him some credit even when he had helped with the development of security systems in general. What are secrets when you can´t protect them.

Inside the house Moriarty pulls out a flash light and starts searching for the library. He knows the files are in a safe somewhere in this room. It is useful to have someone at the inside even if this someone is himself. The immortal had heard Mycroft talking to Anthea about it. Not exactly these file but some other documents that sound important. She had to get them for him. Still he wasn't a fan of the undercover job. He also doubts that his action here will go unnoticed but it wouldn't matter anymore. He only needs this one little piece of information than he can decide his next steps.

With only two missions and less than two days left to act Moriarty was forced to do his own dirty work. It had been a long time and the only other person he would trust with it was busy watching the pet.

The safe wasn't hidden much, just out of side. It was an older model, without any part of hackable technology, Moriarty smiled. Long time since he had to do something like this. While working on the numbers he remembers his time as safe knacker. It was one of his favorite hobbies during the twenties of the last century. All the rich and mighty Americans with their money and their so called power. It was so easy to steal their money. Have a nice chat with them on a party. Find out where they live, the location of the save and the best time to break in.

Perfect. You have to let a man have his hobby. The twenties where horrible boring. Good thing he found something to do a bit later with the Germans, his little chats with Adolf and his top generals. Great times, not to forget the little cockies. What they called? He will find out later or remember it. Maybe he can move to Germany next, start another war. The last two time it worked wonder on his boredom. Or maybe he could turn Great Britain … no they have Mycroft now, it should still be easy fun not work. If he wants work he would play with the Russians and China again.

"Memo to self: Plan new game with China and Russia. Maybe with the USA as a treat. Oh that's great a team up against each other. Let´s see how far we can get them to destroy this civilization. About time that something changes." While talking to himself the last number clicks in and the door is unlocked.

Smiling Moriarty pulls the door open and looks at a very organized pile for documents. The one he was looking for was easily marked with Sherlock´s name. By this he had to roll his eyes. A bit more precaution would be wise. Maybe he will leave a note behind for Mycroft to find.

The file has two subsystems. One easily recognizable as the reports written by Johnny and the other where hand-written notes. By the writing style it looks at first like that of a child. Analyzing hand writing wasn't one of his favorite subjects but it had been useful in the past and he still knows most of it, the important parts at least.

This had to be the hand writing of a young Mycroft Holmes, pre-teen maybe. And there it was, his answer. Fascinated by it, Moriarty read the notes about his creation, how he found Mycroft, told him about John, a meeting, the museum and the talk in front of a rock.

Yes, the notes came from a kid but it was very helpful. Moriarty pulled out the first report from Johnny´s first mission and his suspicion was confirmed. The first mission was the first meeting for Sherlock. That means no interfering with the whole time-travel, mission and everything around it. A paradox.

"Oh Sherly, you are such a clever boy. Did you do this on purpose? Can´s stop you from meeting Johnny or Johnny from meeting you. You made your first meeting to Johnny´s second and his fist to your last. Bad Sherlock."

There was only one thing left to destroy everything Sherlock is hoping to get from Johnny, he is still not sure why he would chose such a low human being to become his companion. They had to complete the missions. Sherlock and John had to meet but after this was everything open. The only thing that has to be stopped is that Sherlock, the present Sherlock gives John his blood.

"Just wait. I will take him away from you. I will find the cruelest way and after this we can both play together a game." Moriarty leaves the file behind. He has what he needs and doesn't care about the camera anymore. This would end tomorrow. "We could start with a game of who gets more of the planet." Happily humming Moriarty disappears into the shadows of the new day.

* * *

Mycroft wakes up like every morning. A few minutes before his alarm clock tells him it's time to get ready for the day. He enjoys this minutes, pressures minutest to think and make decisions or to remember the day before.

The evening the day before was most enjoyable for him as Greg had taken him home after their offer to get John home was rejected and Molly had taken the roll of minding their sick colleague. Greg didn't need much to get him to follow him to the small town flat instead of his big lonely house. Greg´s flat was much more lived in. There were unnecessary things, picture, old stuff no one will ever use again but it makes the flat homey and Mycroft loves it.

They hat a lazy evening with Thai they ordered after both notice that shopping would have been required when they want to cook, a movie and some snuggling on the sofa. They both were too tired for much more and they know how important the next two days are. After this Mycroft plans a long vacation, with Greg, if he wants to and then they can return to their jobs and lives and maybe some more of this.

Mycroft turns his head a bit to look at his lovers sleeping frame, smiling he lifts one hand to push hair that had fallen on the man's face aside as suddenly the alarm on his phone went off. To his surprise Mycroft needed a second to recognize the sound as something else then his alarm clock but the alarm from his house.

He sits up, waking Greg in the progress (the man could sleep through a rock concert if required) and takes the phone from the nightstand. A video link was open that shows someone leaving the house. That someone was looking up and Mycroft stars into the eyes of James Moriarty. The immortal knew where the camera was and was doing it on purpose.

Greg next to him was watching the video as well, feeling that the peace and quiet of their morning was over before it hat even started. A team was send to his house as both man got dressed. It was far too early and both jumped into a waiting car not ten minutes later.

Anthea was in the car offering coffee to both of them. At Mycroft´s house they found easily what Moriarty had been looking for. The files about the time travel program. It appears he had found what he had come for.

* * *

John arrives at work and feels a bit better. This morning was his stomach much more settled, could be the medication Mycroft had given him. Finally something is working. But when it gets worse again John doubts that he will be able to continue his journeys to the past without a major fight with every one of his colleges/friends. Because that's what they have become, his friend.

His health condition is worrying him, he is able to use Google too and radiation poisoning will get ugly. He also notices that he is getting worse faster than he should, faster than his doctors had told him the week before. It was only a few days and John had to guess but he would say it should be like this first in a few weeks. Hopefully he can continue his missions. He wants to meet Sherlock as often as he can. He doesn't want the immortal to be alone for too long.

What past event could be their next meeting? While changing his clothes John thinks about events Sherlock could have witness in the last years. He couldn't really thing of one special date that Sherlock would 100 % participate. Things like 9/11 or the Tsunami at Christmas 2004 happened without knowing it earlier. Political … there were many memorable thinks but who knows what country Sherlock would be at that time. Maybe he is working in some research facility like at the NASA. Many possibilities flout through John´s mind, dreaming in what situation he would meet his beloved.

John feels Mycroft´s eyes on him and turns around. He was finished with changing clothes and as ready as you can get for time travel.

Mycroft looked stressed as did Greg, John notice now. Hopefully there wasn't a fight but it didn't look like they had fought, more like something unpleasant happened. The mission was simple as his boss tells him to find out how far Sherlock´s influence had impact of the incident when a German politician falls to his knees and apologizes for his nations and their crimes.

* * *

Mycroft watches John leave; he was still not sure how to tell the man that tomorrow was the last mission. It will hurt John to know that he will leave Sherlock alone for nearly 40 years. The disappearing of the other immortal wasn't much better news and now he had to go and pick up Sherlock so the man could get back to his flat again. That he has under the name of his dead brother. When he thinks of the immortal as a brother it was helping to thing that his baby brother grow up but it stinks every time when he thinks about the small fragile baby he was holding in his arms.

John looked not better but he acted as if, hopefully Sherlock´s blood would get him through the last two missions. Mycroft gets up; his car was waiting and his thought return to the files in his house that had been read. The first mission and his own scribbled notes about the meeting in the museum. Sherlock disappeared not long after this, leaving him with his future planed out. He only had to work to get there. His twelve year old self had been thinking often about the immortal that had left him. About the trust that Mycroft would be able to success.

He really needs a vacation when everything is over.

* * *

 _'~1970 AD, Warsaw, Poland'_

The mood around Sherlock was loaded with fear, anger and despise but also with hope and high expectations. He stands back and watches with hundreds of people a man walk along the pathway. Willy Brand, he looks different in his suit, with the heavy coat and the frozen face. Sherlock could see that the man had still not decided what to do. Something Sherlock was glad to see, because sometimes people need to surprise themselves to surprise everyone else around them.

The day Willy had called for him, the consultant in political and more important peace related question was a Sunday. Sherlock was close by and could visit the man at his house for tea and cake. They had a talk, he in comfortable clothing as Sherlock had told him not to get changed. The immortal had found out that people show their true face more often when they feel cozy and at home. And that was what he needed, some honesty to help the man with his questions.

The German man ask for his help to show the world what he wants to do with the future of his country that has the dark shadow of the past still floating above them. The visit in Poland was the opportunity to show the world what they want to do but what exactly that could be was unclear for both men.

Sherlock suggested a symbol, something that brings the two countries closer together but let no one ever forget what happened in the past. The immortal had a few ideas but didn't share them. People like the man in front of him with the woolen pullover and the piece of cake on his fork would be able to find his own way. Sherlock had learned to trust a special kind of human´s to do so.

Due to the fact that his face is known to older people that had aged the last years, unlike him, Sherlock was unable to walk with the man. He needs to stay in the background. In this modern are when cameras and photos catch every moment and freeze them in time. Not a good time for immortals and their never changing appearance. Sometimes Sherlock has doubts about his doing but seeing the man who had ask him for help walking down his path was something the immortal was very proud off. There were still people in this world that wants peace and a future. A future for John to be born in.

Like always when his thoughts find their way to his beloved Sherlock wonders how long until they would meet in John´s present. He should ask in which year John is born, maybe he can meet the baby version of his boyfriend. Watch him grow up, without making contact of course but he would be a part of John´s live.

The air changes and Sherlock knows John is there, smiling Sherlock turns his back to the directions the time machine had arrived. "Maybe my thoughts have brought you here today." Still smiling Sherlock waits for John to find him. Between the people it would be easier for the time traveler who seem to know where exactly he is.

* * *

The crowd becomes a silent mass, excepting that something will happen but the knowledge that nobody knows what, even the man who will change the world a little bit caught the moment into time. This moment will be remembered, Sherlock watches as the German man fixes the ribbon from the wreath and then goes on his knees.

Sherlock turns his back while the world in this Poland city becomes quiet. Willy Brand had done something miracles and it won´t be forgotten. His work was done and Sherlock starts looking for John who was taking too much time for his liking. Unsure about John´s condition (it could have gone worse again) Sherlock finds his way to his lover, unstoppable following his heart.

* * *

John was frozen in place, he had found the plaza and knows where exactly Sherlock should be but he couldn't walk through the crowd. There were too many people and everyone wants to be in the front but there wasn't enough room. A movement to his left catches his attention. The mass of people in front of him start to give room and out of the small gap walks the man John was looking for.

Sherlock was smiling at him and pulls him away from the crowd, away from preying eyes and away from the streets where history happens right now. They find an empty house (of course it was empty, everyone was outside and watching). John is pulled into a tight hug and a deep kiss that let every word that wanted to come out of John´s mouth disappear.

The immortal´s hands found their places on John´s lower back and behind his neck. The kiss was passionate but restrained they both know there was no place for more intimidate than a kiss in this situation. They have to save that for a later moment in time. The one when they would meet in their present. Not the past or future version of the other.

Sherlock pulls away first and looks with love sick eyes over his lover. John didn't look better but also not worse compare to the last meeting. Maybe the medication he was talking about start to work. They sat down on a sofa and the immortal tells John what he had witness a few minutes before. About the man on his knees who wants peace and about the talk they had before. Sherlock guesses that most of this should be what John was asked to find out for whatever his boss (Mycroft) wanted.

"Sherlock, did you know that he would do it. Willy Brand I mean?" Sherlock was stoking his finger over John´s hand.

"Not what exactly he wants to do but I told him to leave a symbol behind. One that everyone will understand." John nods.

"Are you proud of him?" A strange question to ask but Sherlock would understand what he means. Not a single man but mankind itself.

"Yes, these people still exist. The ones that want a world where everybody can be living together." That makes John smile and Sherlock was happy that they had met at this specific moment.

John was glad that Sherlock was at ease with his live right now. When Sherlock finds hope in people.

"John what year will you get born?" John let himself fall against Sherlock. Being hold like this makes him feel safe. He enjoys this feeling and he doesn't want to think about all the years to come before they can meet.

"8th of September 1972, just two years from now." John doesn't look up, doesn't want to know what Sherlock thinks about it, that he is so young.

"Oh." Sherlock sounds surprised.

"What? What´s wrong with that?" John looked up and finds Sherlock looking down at him happily.

"I thought I would have to wait many years. Didn't think science would get such a step forward in such a short time. This is fascinating and wonderful." Of course Sherlock would see it that way.

"No peeking at me at my birth." John jokes and stubs Sherlock into his side.

Sherlock changes the topic. "What´s your mission today?" John is surprised as he noticed he has no idea. He had listened to Mycroft but he couldn't remember. He was too busy appearing healthy and ready.

"Don't know guess something with what happened outside. You told me enough, I don't think it matters if I have watched it myself." Realizing that they had spent nearly two hours John separate himself from Sherlock. He doesn't like it but he has to go back. The people who live in this house could come back every minute.

* * *

Sherlock follows John and watches HOPE disappear into a future that isn't so far anymore. Still the immortal has to find out what let mankind to time travel.

A little voice inside of him told him that it could be him and John.

"… two years…"

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

John opens his eyes as he arrives back at the office and doesn't feel the urge to empty his stomach into a bin his friends are offering him. A bit shaken on his feet John takes Greg´s offer to drive him home. The subway would be too much right now.

The drive was quiet, John was tired, like never before in his live and Greg doesn't feel the need to break their comfortable silence. His friend doesn't offer any information about today, tomorrow or asks how he is feeling. Just two friends sharing a car ride.

John promised Greg to go to bed early and take his medicine. Responsible as John is (he can be … sometimes) he takes the pills and makes himself a quick dinner and tea for his nausea that had returned after the food he had eaten.

"… two years …"

Two years until he would be born in Sherlock´s time. He could be already existing at his next mission.

* * *

Mycroft arrives at the clinic in time; Sherlock would break out and tramp home if he would be too late. The packed bags and the violin case were waiting for him and together they carried Sherlock´s belonging outside to the waiting car.

The immortal turns back to the white building, he wouldn't miss it but it had helped, not that he will tell Mycroft that. Some things are better kept unspoken.

Inside the car Mycroft tells Sherlock about the break in in his house. Sherlock was not surprised but worried what Moriarty would do with the information. The immortal went quiet and was thinking about it. He had already met John in the museum and John was doing his missions. Moriarty wouldn't be able to prevent a meeting. Not that it would have consequences but it had already happen, the only point he could attack (if that was his goal) would be after the last mission. Tomorrow, when Sherlock would finally meet his beloved for the first time in their right time, together and no longer separated.

* * *

Baker Street looks like he had left it, his rooms hadn't changed, only the dust had grown at some places and decreased at others, most likely Mrs. Hudson´s doing. The woman had already jumped him with a hug and was making tea in his kitchen too catch up as she calls it.

Mycroft was still with him, posing as the worried big brother. Mrs. Hudson was chatting about the neighbors and the latest news, she tells him about John, the young man that had helped her, brought over his friends Molly and Greg. He had spent time with her and taken her out of the house for tea and walks. And of course there were Mrs. Tuners married ones. The topic brought them to the point where Sherlock finally could ask a question.

"… but the poor led looks ill. Hope he is eating enough. I will invite him for dinner. You two can meet, if you want."

"Mrs. Hudson what do you think about another tenant." She looked shocked and Sherlock understands that she thinks he will leave. "I would like to ask someone to move in with me, if that is alright with you?" The smile was back.

"Of course William, that would be lovely. Did I met your friend before?" As soon as John is hear he has to change the name thing.

"It´s a surprise. If everything works out you could meet him tomorrow evening. Maybe he stays forever." She giggles a school-girl laugh, kisses him on his cheek and returns to her own flat.

* * *

Finally alone after Mycroft left and promised to pick him up as soon as John left. Sherlock looks out of his window with his violin in his hand but she stays quiet. Sherlock remembers the last few days he had met John in the past, the pale color on his skin, the weakness, the vomiting. Everything John has to go through just because of him. The only light at the horizon is that his last mission wasn't as dangerous as the first ones, where danger was behind every corner and they both had to watch out or they would have get caught in between fire and steel.


	40. Last meeting and the promise for the fir

**Chapter 40: Last meeting and the promise for the first of them all**

 _'Present, London - 2010'_

Sherlock wakes up and looks up at a familiar celling about his bed. He stays still and watches the early light of the morning fighting its way through the curtains. He had missed his bed with the fluffy blanket, the poster of the periodic system on the wall and the smell of this room. It was his, since a few years and he loves it. He had never thought he would miss a place but only now after returning he had realized that he had chosen this flat, for John and him. This was the first time he had chosen something he wants to call home, that he is in fact calling home. This is his home and he want to share it with John.

Today is the day everything will be decided. Did John want to move in with him, want him, the immortal? Does he take his blood because Sherlock would make sure that John would drink at least the amount he had gotten from Moriarty at the time. He wouldn't risk losing John for something small like this. He wasn't sure the capsule thing would really work but it was the only thing he had been able to do. He could at least tell himself he had tried something.

The immortal gets up, stretches his arms and legs and ignores the loud popping sound his joints did. He is getting old, not really but sometimes the illusion of change, grow and aging at his own body makes Sherlock feel more human, more part of the world around him. After a shower, Sherlock gets dressed and enters the kitchen for the first cup of tea of the day.

The cupboard is already stock up with John´s favorite tea branch and Sherlock had hesitated to open one pack. It was John´s at least in Sherlock´s mind but he didn't want the flat to look too clean, cold or clinical so he had opened one to make his tea. Sherlock likes this tea and he imagine John and him sitting in their armchairs (yes John had already one) in front of the fire and drinking tea while enjoying each other's company, telling stories or just sitting together in silence. When everything works out today as it should this could become reality, very soon.

With his tea Sherlock was sitting down in his chair, looking out of the window, the sun was rising and on the windowsill was his violin waiting for him to unpack, he didn't have the chance to do so the evening before and Sherlock wasn't feeling like playing right know. She was safe in her case, waiting for John to arrive, so they could play for him the first time, knowing who is who. Not the guy in the subway.

Thinking about it Sherlock has a lot explaining to do before something like a routine could start. A daily ritual would be nice, like waking up together, having tea (and breakfast) together, and then doing whatever they feel like they want to do. Maybe he could finally finish his concert he is writing on since a few years, he never had the motivation to do so. Many things had been left behind with time, time he couldn't wait any longer. But this was over now. John would meet him, both at the same time line.

The small voice in his head that was still doubting his plan was calling out again, what when John didn't want to stay with you, what when he had changed his mind and didn't want to be immortal, it would only be a few decades before he would left, die like everyone else he had met in his long life. Or maybe John wants to become immortal but not living here with him. Ignoring the voice he returns to his other greatest fear, his blood, did it work on John? Maybe it doesn't work when not directly given, John was sick, getting sicker every day. First thing he would do is let John drink it (of course after asking).

John eyes and the tears flooding them came to his mind again, the last time he had met him in the past, he remembers their promise, he had done everything John had ask him to do. The museum, the time travel agency, everything for this day.

Sherlock stands at the window to look out on the world before him and closes his eyes. He didn't believe in god but a small prayer left his lips regardless, not really praying to God but to someone out there, listening and maybe, hopefully having a heart and give them a chance.

"Please let us finally meet."

* * *

 _The forest around him was covered in shadowy paths and sun patches, the rock at the end of his way was guarded by a lonely person. Standing there, tall and mystical John closes the gap between them. The person guarding the rock looks sad and wasn't talking just looking at the rock and the picture on it. The picture was familiar to John but he couldn't say exactly where he had seen it before. The person was right beside him but he couldn't recognize him or her, he only knows that this person was sad and lonely._

 _The person points on the picture and John looks again at every detail. The animals the campfire with a bunch of people around it and the lonely figure in the middle of it, surrounded by light._

 _Suddenly the forest disappears brick and stones grow out of nowhere and surround him, the rock and the person right next to him. John is no longer the grown man he had been but a child, eight years old and the person right next to him holds his face in his hand._

 _John notice the eyes, the first clear image he gets form the person, galaxy eyes … Sherlock. John´s mind put the missing pieces together and the love of his life was there, close to tears and asking him to do something._

 _Through the static stound John first notice now he can hear Sherlock talk. "Never stop looking for me."_

* * *

John jumps up in his bed as if something had pushed him out of his dream. He was breathing hart and it took him a while to slow it down to an exceptional level. Why had he dreamed about Sherlock and the museum? Thinking about it John had nearly forgotten how sad and lonely Sherlock had looked that day. With all the missions and 30 years between it he had forgotten, the man´s tear filled eyes.

Still sitting in his bed John was counting down the years, he had last seen Sherlock in Warschau 1970, the meeting in the museum was 1979, he thinks. Nine years, what did happen in this short time? Where had he been, he know he will meet Sherlock on today's mission. Would it been more than nine, ten years after Warschau? Would his next mission take him place already in the next decade or worse centuries? Like … John was thinking, the first thing that happens after the year 2000. Of course there was 9/11 and other thinks that came to his mind but between 1970 and 1999 happened many important things too. With the rising of the surveillance time, there should be lots of images and videos showing Sherlock, he had to be on the videos from the day in the museum too. There were everywhere cameras, no chance to hide from it. Or maybe John did something on a mission shortly before the museum, something that hurt Sherlock. There had to be a mission before or Sherlock wouldn't know when to be there.

John´s worries increase to the point he couldn't think, so he got up to get ready. He takes his medicine (still doubting its use) and getting ready for work. John ignores the heaviness of his bones, the slightly blurry sight and had to concentrate to walk down the stairs without missing a step.

Maybe he should tell Sherlock about the museum today. Better not about his birth date, he didn't want Sherlock to witness that. In the knowledge that there was at least one mission before the museum John steps into the subway and let himself be brought to the office.

On his phone arrives a mail form his blog, he hadn't heard anything from his entry's in days maybe weeks. It´s not that he isn't interested in it anymore but with his work, the radiation poisoning, Sherlock and everything in between he didn't have time to update and no one comment on his older entry.

Interested who it could be John enters his name and password and checks the page where his blog was on. Surprised he finds that the user Violinist_NumberB had written again. John opens the message.

 _Dear John._

 _I just wanted to write and tell you that I will finally meet my loved one again today. I was a long time we hadn't seen each other and I´m very nervous. I hope I don't have to write to you again (I won't have to when everything works out today). You don't have to answer to this I just wanted to let you know, you as a person I could talk to when no one else was there. Thank you._

A short message and John had to smile. Maybe he will answer it later or wait until Violinist_NumberB writes again. He was happy for this person, he had sounded very lonely as they had contact and not very sure about the feelings of the other person, yet. He will check his block after work.

The subway arrives at his station and John gets out. Slowly he makes his way up on the street lever and walk the last remaining meters to the office. With slow steps he covers the distance. John doesn't want to fall and have to explain his unsteady walk.

* * *

Due to the speed or better lack of speed on his way to work was John late and he hated it. He had been too distracted this morning about the dream, the message and everything around that he hadn't really watched the time. Everyone was already waiting for him but no one questions why he was late. Deciding to not waste more time and get ready John walks over to Molly to get dressed.

An Arabic looking outfit was waiting for him, something that could be worn today. John´s fear about the length between the meeting returns for a second until he remembered that there was at least one before the museum. Less than ten years for Sherlock.

"So I´m visiting the dessert?" John needed to be right once with the place or time of the clothing, with the bad start (Greek, not Rome) he had. Molly who had watched him walking with concern in her eyes but hadn't said anything and now she was smiling at him.

"You are completely right, Qatar. I knew you would get it right one time." She turns around and pulls a huge folder out of her bag. "Would you like to look at some of my drawings? I … I want to create a mode label and I would really like to hear your opinion on my work." Surprised but very honoured John takes the folder from the nervous looking Molly. He hadn't known that she was planning on changing career.

The drawings were beautiful, very detailed and John could see where she got her inspiration. His time travel clothing. Many elements from different time periods had influent her work. He really likes it and he tells her that. "They are brilliant, Molly. Can't wait to see them in a shop. You know you make the most beautiful clothes I have ever seen, you use old elements and make something new out of it." Molly was blushing hard as he gave her the folder back.

"Thank you John, I will start right after our …" She didn't finish the sentence and was only saved by Mycroft calling for him. She waved with one hand as he walks over, the other hand presses the folder with her dreams and future close to her body.

* * *

After sitting this long, walking brought the heaviness in his bones back. But he thinks he covered it up very well by pulling on his clothes as if they were the reason for his slightly of walking. He couldn't risk Mycroft sending him home or worse to the hospital again. He needs to meet with Sherlock. He needs to tell him about their meeting, before it´s too late.

Mycroft was watching him with clear eyes and an intensive stare … yeah he probably didn't fool him but you can´t blame a man for trying. "John did you take your medicine?"

"Yes, as instructed on the container." Surprised that he isn't questioned for his being late John takes it. After a short moment where John could clearly see that Mycroft was interpreting his words and looking for a lie, the man finally returns back to the daily basics of their job. Time travel.

"Your mission today is, like you already heard from Molly in Qatar, 1971 on the third of September to be exact." Five days before his birth, things John. Enough time to tell Sherlock not to visit that and long before the meeting in the museum. "Sherlock is witnessing the day Qatar gets his independence from the United Kingdom. We found out he was working as consultant again for the UK during the negotiation."

"Mission as usually?" John ask, he doesn't need to get told every time the same.

"Yes, you are free to go, except there is a time limit this time. 1 hour, HOPE will return after the time ran out; please make sure you are inside the time machine." Mycroft sends him over to HOPE and Greg that was already waiting for him.

"John, listen. I have a letter for you that you have open as soon as you arrive, before you even get out of HOPE. Do you understand?" John nods, strange but he was working for an agency doing time travel. He could deal with opening a letter as soon as he arrives in the past. "Promise me."

"Yes Greg, I promise I will read it as soon as I arrive." With that John sits down in his seat, glad he made it without an unpleasant meeting of his nose with the floor, he also gets ready to have a nice reunion with his breakfast as soon as he arrives. Yes the impact of time travel had gone away after the first few missions but the radiation poisoning with the combination of time travel was just bad for his stomach.

John looks at the display that shows him the time, better the date he will travel too, 1971 a very short time since their last meeting. Sherlock wouldn't have much time to miss him. With the letter in his hand he presses the start bottom. And the journey begins.

* * *

Mycroft sighs as the last shade of HOPE disappears. He has to pick up a very inpatient immortal and he has to do it now, before something happened. He gets up and locks eyes with Greg, he knows about the letter, he even encouraged it but it had been Greg´s idea. Mycroft can't wait for the end of the day. He and everyone else in this room is serious ready for a very long, paid vacation. "Greg, Molly I will be back in 40 minutes, get ready for … for everything. Not sure what exactly will happened but after this mission we will all get on a vacation. We earned it." He offered them a smile. The last mission would mean their time working together was over. Yes Molly and Greg knew this, but it doesn't mean they don't have some bad feelings about.

Molly would be alright, she had already planned out her future, Greg and he would have to figure out what the mechanic wants to do next and how they will take the next step in their relationship.

A car is waiting for him outside and Mycroft closes the door behind him, that will be probably the most exhausting hours of his life.

* * *

Anthea enters shortly after Mycroft had left, Molly, worried about John asks her to call for a doctor, she isn't sure the condition that John comes back would allowed any kind of happy ending. She had seen his walk and his unfocused eyes, the sweat on his forehead and the cold skin under her fingers as she helped him into his clothes. Anthea told her that it is already arranged for a doctor to be ready as soon as John comes back.

Greg had left the room and starts tiding his tools at his workplace, he wouldn't need them anymore after today. All the times he had stayed late to fix the little flaws and scratches that come from time travel, HOPE was his work and now he questions what will follow. Greg´s mind return to the evening before as Mycroft had asked for a shared holiday at a quiet place to relax and finally being together when everything is over. Greg wants to go, really really badly but he hadn't told it Mycroft, not yet. He wants to wait for the day to end. He needs to know that John would be alright whatever happens next.

The conversation had been a bit awkward and Greg smiles as he remembers it:

 _Greg could see his boyfriend´s nervousness; even a blind and deaf man would have seen and heard it. Okay, more felt it but seriously, if they had been together longer he would have suspected a wedding proposal or to get told he is pregnant. Greg had to roll his eyes by that thought and was waiting for Mycroft to finally get to the point where Greg knows why the man is walking a line into his carpet._

 _"Gregory would you … I mean do you want to …" Mycroft stops the second time._

 _"Hey, gorgeous. How about you tell me what you want to ask so I can answer your question. I won´t bite I promise." Suddenly a thought came to Greg that wasn't a nice thought. Mycroft could break it off, their relationship before it even started probably._

 _"Would you like to go on a vacation with me?" Greg still in his dark thoughts needed a second to understand the question. A vacation? That's what made his boyfriend so nervous._

 _"Yes I would like to but we have to wait for the day tomorrow to end. I will not let John alone when something goes wrong okay?." He might have sounded a bit … disinterested in the vacation but with all the thoughts in his head how he wants to write a message for John so he could do it right._

 _Yes he needs a vacation, a long one, far away from all this._

When Mycroft comes back, he will tell him that he really wants this vacation, together with him. Only the two of them. They still need to decide for the destination but Greg suspects that Mycroft has already planned the trip.

* * *

Mycroft could feel the nervous energy filling the living room from behind the door. He knocks and opens the door after a minute; Sherlock was pacing through the room, like himself as he asks Greg for the vacation. He let a small smile grow on his face as he steps right into Sherlock´s path. The immortal looks up as if he hadn't notice the man before.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock looks around, finds the clock and notice the time. "Is it time?"

"Yes. Are you ready? I will take you to the office so you can finally meet your beloved." Sherlock was looking at the table by the couch. A tray with tea and toast brought by his landlady was brought up and he hadn't even notice. "Mrs. Hudson is out shopping you can thank her later for the breakfast."

Sherlock gets his coat and ties his scarf around his neck as he stops mid-movement. "What when he doesn't want to stay with me or become immortal or he changes his mind in hundreds of years and hates me for making him immortal or-"

"Little brother, everything will be alright. Don't panic." Mycroft had stopped Sherlock and hold him at his upper arms. "Let go meet him alright." He smiled and takes the immortal out of the flat and back into the car that had brought him to this house.

The car ride was silence. Both man caught up in their thoughts. About their beloved ones and the dark shadow, none of them could forget. Moriarty was still gone and the man could become a danger for them. But that had time. First of all is the meeting. And nothing could Sherlock stop to get back to John.

* * *

 _'~03. Sep. 1971 AD, Qatar'_

John could feel that HOPE had arrived but he needed a minute to calm down his rebelling stomach. He is still holding the piece of paper Greg had given to him before the journey begins. So he opens it.

 _John,_

 _This is your last mission, whatever you want to tell Sherlock do it now. This is your last change, because you can´t journey back in time in your own time line. This is also the reason for the one hour limit for today's mission._

 _Find Sherlock tell him what he needs to know and come back. You won´t be able to stay longer, don't forget your baby-self will be born in a few days. You can´t stay!_

 _Tell Sherlock about the museum and the rock and everything but come back to us or something very bad will happen._

 _Greg_

John stares at the letter and panics, the last mission is today. He needs to find Sherlock. John checks the countdown; he had only 56 minutes left. He jumps out of HOPE and runs through the streets of this city. Passing celebrating people who have the greatest days of their live, they got their independence for their country. John ignores them all, he knows the place Sherlock will be and he needs to reach it before it´s too late.

It took John over twenty minutes to reach the right place, Sherlock was standing there waiting patiently, not knowing that this would be the last meeting in the past, a long time until they would meet again. If they meet at all in John´s present.

Greg´s warning that he has to return is still on his mind. John doesn't understand every part of time travel but this part is clear. Two identical beings can´t be at the same time and place. He needs to go back or this whole journey could get erased from time itself.

John reaches Sherlock, who was around important looking people but he didn't care and grips tight at his arm. "You need to follow me, now. We don't have time." Sherlock, feeling the urgent and let himself be pulled back to the small alley where John had landed. They both ignored the members of the Parliament that shouted behind them.

"John what´s wrong?" The immortal could see that his boyfriend wasn't feeling good, but it wasn't his body that was at fault, not that the radiation poisoning wasn't still playing war with John´s body but it was something else today.

"I have to go back to HOPE, it will launch in a few minutes and you have to listen to a few things I need to tell you. So listen and remember it. Do you understand?" Sherlock just nods and waits for John to continue. They cross another road and take the right at the next. "This is my last mission. I won´t come back to the past. I will be born in five days and I can´t come back. You have to find my present-self."

Sherlock swallowed, he had known that this day will come, the day when it is the last meeting but he hadn't thought that the moment was now. He had just fought for the independence of this country by consulting for the British government. They had got out a win today. No war, no one hurt and a country celebration for their independent. Why now, can't he have this one day at peace?

They reach HOPE and John checks the clock, 8 minutes. "Okay I have eight minutes left. Listen, the most important thing is that you find me. The first time we meet is 1979 in the British Museum of History. There will be a Stone Age theme exhibition and you need to be there and meet me. They will bring in the rock we both painted on. We meet the first time in front of it. You need to be there, promise me that you talk to me. Tell me to start looking for you. Please Sherlock." Sherlock can see the first tears appearing in John´s eyes. Eight years, alone again and then only to meet a child that won´t remember him.

"John, I promise I will be there." Sherlock takes John´s hand, feels how cold they got.

"You also have to find Mycroft Holmes, he is the one that is responsible for the whole time travel thing and he was at the museum the day we met. Not sure if he had his hands in all of this. Maybe you also need to find the rock and bring it to the museum, I don't know." John bites his lips. "If I had known that this will be the last time I would have come prepared but I was only told after I arrived here. I´m sorry, Sherlock. But please make this all happen, please."

John now full on tears let himself be taken into Sherlock´s warm arms. He holds the shaking agent. "I promise John I will find you and when we meet again we will be the same. We will finally able to stay together. Don't worry I will do everything to get to you. I promise."

A warning signal calls the last minute of John´s time in the past. "Sherlock, please do nothing stupid, I … want to get my boyfriend as he is now." They share a long kiss, John already sitting in the capsule and Sherlock lending in. The last 10 seconds count down. "Promise me Sherlock, that you will find me."

"I promise." Sherlock pushes John back into HOPE as the door starts to close.

"I will be there and take your hand Sherlock, just be there, please." The last word was swallowed by the closed door and John´s tears. As he felts the familiar pull of the time machine that brings him back to his presents and let Sherlock alone in the past, with nearly 40 years of loneliness.

* * *

 _'Present, London - 2010 '_

As he arrives back John doesn't feel like moving at all, his body feels tired. More exhausted as ever before in his life. The running and the panic in his body on today´s mission had taken a lot out of him. Worst was that he couldn't be sure everything had worked out. Okay, he could remember Sherlock and the day at the museum but did it really happen? Or did he get something wrong. Will he get out of HOPE and be in the office or had he surprise members of the gentleman club during their lunch break. The tears were still running down his cheeks and he doesn't care. As long as he stays inside the time machine noting bad can happen. Sherlock will still be his.

Sadly someone on the outside was against his plan as the door was open from the other side. To John´s surprise it wasn't a worried Greg or Molly. Not even Mycroft, no right there in front of him was Sherlock and John notice the difference between the two already.

The Sherlock he had left behind, had a bit darker skin color form his time in the sun of Qatar, had dressed in the fashion, like John. This Sherlock looks different, pale skin, dark rings under his eyes, a nice coat with a blue scarf, the hair had changed, it was curlier and looks wilder. This Sherlock was looking at him like he hadn't seen him for a long time (40 years are a long time, even for an immortal).

Before one of them could say something John offers his hand. The hand he had offered the galaxy-eyed man in the museum, the same hand that had hold on to the immortal and had to let go every time because he had to return. But no longer would they be separated by time.

Sherlock takes the hand, they feel the warmth of the other and Sherlock pulls John out of time into his arms. John had been in this arms a few minutes ago but the hug in Qatar seems suddenly a long time ago. Both men were crying and the world around them doesn't exist anymore.

It takes a long time for them both to stop crying and letting go so they became aware of something else. John could feel something hart under the shirt Sherlock is wearing and knows exactly what is under the layers of clothes. The dog tags were still in place. It made him smile and John looks up to meet Sherlock´s eyes. "Welcome back, my time travel agent." Sherlock smiled.

"Glad to be here." Both start laughing and became aware the other people in the room. Mycroft and Greg were at the wall, standing close and watching them. Molly stands by her changing area and Anthea was close to the door with a doctor and two nurses. John blushes a bit, they had all witness what just happen but somehow John was alright with it.

Just in the moment John wanted to say something to them something hit him. The noise of the shot didn't even reach his ears as John loses the short battle with his body and the bullet. Darkness swallows him.

* * *

Sherlock hadn't notice another person entering the room, as he hears the shot he can see John sinking to the ground. He catches John before he can hit the ground. What he sees and feels was like his worst nightmares. The bullet had hit John right through the heart. The blood was leaking out and covering the clothes and floor before they had reached the ground. Sherlock tries to press his hand onto the wound but he had seen enough death to recognize it.

John Watson was death, died in his arms without Sherlock being able to do something. The immortal looks down onto the dead body his beloved one. They had finally met, they could have been together. They would be able to share their life but why was one of them dead?

Sherlock´s mind got clouded; he didn't hear the shouts from Mycroft, or Greg tackling Moriarty to the ground, Moriarty who had shot John and is brought away. But this had no meaning for him anymore. John was dead and he would be alone again. The world can burn if you ask him and he doesn't care for it anymore. Had long forgotten how to care for it. Only John had been important, to safe this world for him.

Sherlock presses the blood covered body of the love of his life against his chest and cries and screams his pain out like never before in his immortal life.

* * *

Darkness was there and that was all John could feel, he hadn't known that you can feel darkness but this how it felt. He remembers what had happen. Sherlock, the shot and then he was dead. But why is he feeling something.

A drop of water fell down into his darkness and hit the ground. Silver blue rings appear and grow.

Another drop hits the ground, than another. It looks like rain but why would it rain?

Suddenly John hears someone scream, not anyone but Sherlock, it were the same screams he had hears so often before, the one of endless sadness and desperation combined with hate for the world that is hurting him constantly by taking away what he loves.

John pulls himself out of the darkness. It was surprisingly easy and even when it would have been the hardest task he had ever to do he would achieve his destination. How could he not when he knows that Sherlock is at the other end.

His body was heavy but John managed to open his eyes. Sherlock was holding him and crying. The newly awaken immortal get his hand to move and touches Sherlock´s head.

"Hey baby, I´m back, no need for tears." John´s needed a second to sink in and suddenly Sherlock´s head lifts up. Shock and sorrow floated the beautiful eyes that contain the stars. As Sherlock looks down at him with red rimmed eyes.

"John?" Sherlock searched his body, finds the place where the bullet hat hit him and taken John´s life. The whole was gone, only the blood soaked clothes remind. "John you are back." Pure happiness broke a smile and John finds himself back in a crushing hug.

"Sherlock, I … breathing." Sherlock relaxes a bit but didn't let go.

"Sorry. Before you ask, I … I gave Mycroft the capsules with my blood to make you immortal, you know just in case something get wrong. Couldn't be sure it worked in such a small dosage." Sherlock stopped talking as John lays his finger on his lips.

"Shut up and kiss me." And he does, their lips meet and it is the best ´welcome home´ John had ever got. They had many things to talk over, like moving in at Baker Street and such things but right now that wasn't important. They didn't notice that the room was empty, that their friends had left them alone for some privacy and it would take them a few hours before they were ready to leave but they have each other and none of them will ever be alone again.

 _AN: The End ... not jet. There will be an epiloge, don´t worry but I think the Chapter got long enough. Enjoy._


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